


Take My Hand

by Trinket



Series: Fire In My Heart [1]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Slash, Wordcount: 15.000-25.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-07 06:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket/pseuds/Trinket
Summary: Before the horrid evening in which Thomas and Martha Wayne lost their lives, their son Bruce was told of a decision his father had made which would change the course of part of his life. And so began his yearly summer vacation at a farm in Kansas.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Fire In My Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546534
Comments: 77
Kudos: 211





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor do I make a profit off of this fanfiction. Batman and Superman, etc are properties of DC. I only own the story I wrote, not the characters nor the canon in which they exist.

It began when he was a young boy, only three months before tragedy was to strike their family. His father's words had been _strange_ to him.

“Bruce, you are now betrothed to Clark Joseph Kent of Smallville Kansas.”

“Father, what does betrothed mean?”

The woman grimaced at the man. “I don't see why this needs to be done in this day and age, Thomas.”

Thomas placed a hand upon his wife's shoulder. “There are some things you do not know Martha and it is safer for us all if those _things_ did not come to light. Not while our son and the Kent's boy are so young.”

“I do not like secrets between us, Thomas.”

“This is not my secret to tell, Martha. It belongs to the Kent's and more importantly their son who is too young and unaware of the role in society he will one day play.”

She sighed and nodded. “Very well, but why a betrothal? How will that protect Clark Joseph Kent?”

Thomas lowered his head to brush his wife's lips, “Our family will give him an extended support system and when he is and Bruce are older they will learn the truth.”

Bruce just watched Thomas and Martha Wayne, his parents, kiss. They were _happy_. Not wishing to disturb them he turned to leave the room and found Alfred walking down the hall with a duster in his hand.

“Alfred?”

The straight-backed man paused and turned to glance down at him. “Yes, Master Bruce?”

“What does betrothed mean?”

Alfred blinked. “Ah, so your father has mentioned it to you.”

Bruce nodded.

“When one is betrothed it means that one day they are to wed another who was chosen for them either by their parents, guardians, or sometimes the government.”

“Wed?” Bruce's eyes widened, “That means marriage, doesn't it?”

“Yes, sir, it does.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“That, Master Bruce, I do not know, but it is what your father wishes, whether or not you one day accept what he has planned for you will be your decision to make.”

Bruce sighed and turned to glance back at the door behind which his parents remained. “I am confused, Alfred.”

“Why is that, Master Bruce?”

“I am betrothed to another boy.” He turned his gaze to Alfred.

“Does that worry you, sir?”

“I don't know. I have never seen two boys together.”

“It happens, sir. However, if you do wed your intended one day, if you are not interested it need only be a marriage of convenience.”

“What does that mean, Alfred?”

Alfred shook his head. “I am sorry, Master Bruce, you'll learn one day. These matters I do not think you need to worry about as yet. Nor should you have had to, but it was Master Thomas's decision to inform you.”

Bruce nodded and turned around again as his parents stepped out of the room and smiled down at him. Their smiles were infectious and he smiled back up at them.

* * *

Three months later during the night as they were walking away from the movie theater Bruce sank to his knees as blood pooled around him and tears streamed down his face. Where the police and Alfred found him, too shocked to move.

Alfred took him home, got him cleaned up and placed a cup of tea into his hands. “I am sorry, Master Bruce.”

He could do no more than stare into the cup of tea. “I should be with them.”

Alfred knelt in front of him. “No, Master Bruce. That is not what they would want.”

He closed his eyes tight, “What would they want, Alfred?”

“For you to live. For you to be happy, sir.”

He blinked open his eyes, “How, Alfred? How can I ever be happy again?”

“It will take time, sir, but until then at least enjoy every happy moment you can.”

He glanced up above the mantle of the fireplace to gaze at the large framed image of his parents and him. “I miss them.”

“As do I, sir.”

“Alfred. I don't want to be here in the Manor.”

Taking a deep breath Alfred stood up. “This is your home. It was _their_ home.”

Bruce stared up at him and whispered a choked breath, “I know.”

“This is where you'll grow up, Master Bruce, but we can take a vacation from here.”

“We can?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere no one knows who you are, sir. Where they won't ask questions.”

“Does a place like that really exist, Alfred?”

“It does, Master Bruce. Well, not quite, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are two people who know who you are.”

“Who?”

“Jonathan and Martha Kent.”

At hearing the name Martha, Bruce stilled and spaced out as gunshot rang out and pearls fell and hit the ground.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred called to him, concern writ in his countenance.

With a shake of his head, Bruce took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Kent... that name is familiar.”

“Indeed, sir. They are the parents of Clark Joseph Kent.”

He stared down into his tea before lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. Setting the teacup down on the table with shaking hands he asked, “My betrothed?”

“Yes, Master Bruce.”

“How old is he?”

“He is only an infant, sir.”

He glanced up. “My father said something about protecting him.”

“Yes, Master Bruce.”

“Do you know why?”

“I am afraid not, sir.”

Standing up he took a deep breath and wiped his tears away on the back of his sleeve. “When can we leave?”

“As soon as we've packed a couple of bags, I can fly us to the Kent's farm.”

“A farm?”

“Yes, sir. In Kansas.”

“Kansas...,” a soft sigh escaped him, “where he's safe.”

Alfred nodded. “Yes. I shall begin packing, so please, sir, finish your tea.”

“I will.”

“Very good, sir,” he turned and headed for the stairway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> I am open to suggestions in regard to this storyline which is a part of a series. So feel free to leave suggestions, but please be aware I may not use them if they don't fit into the storyline, or at least may not fit into a certain time-frame within the series itself.


	2. Protector

Bruce watched out the window as Alfred landed the small plane they were buckled into down on the empty field just past a large section of corn. Beyond the corn, he'd noticed a barn and not far from that a small house, so small he thought it could have fit inside the home he, his parents and Alfred had shared since he could remember.

Alfred turned off the plane and unbuckled himself and then Bruce, “We're here, Master Bruce.”

“Kansas?”

“Yes, sir. Smallville, Kansas to be precise.”

Bruce stood up once he was free of his confines and walked to the door and waited for Alfred to open the door and lower the steps.

He blinked when he saw an older blonde haired man standing a few yards away and waving to them. “Who is that, Alfred?”

Alfred picked up two bags of luggage and walked down the steps with Bruce following behind him. “I believe that man is Jonathan Kent.”

“Clark's father?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Bruce walked ahead of Alfred and held out his hand to the man. “Hello, I'm Bruce Wayne and you must be...”

The blonde adult took his hand and gave it a firm shake, “Jonathan Kent. It's nice to meet ya'll.”

“Likewise,” Alfred said as he came up beside them and lowered the luggage to hold out one of his own hands to shake Jonathan Kent's.

Jonathan let go of Bruce's hand and took Alfred's, “You must be Mr. Pennyworth.”

Alfred nodded. “I am.”

“I'm right sorry to hear about Thomas and his wife.” His gaze flickered to Bruce.

Bruce's mouth formed a thin line at the mention of his parents.

Alfred picked up the luggage again. “I think perhaps that is a conversation best left to another time, sir.”

“Right. Well, ya'll come this way and meet my wife and our son, Clark.”

Bruce glanced up, “Is he okay?”

Jonathan blinked. “Clark is fine. His Ma must be feeding him by now.” He turned and walked with them trailing behind to the small farmhouse.

He opened the door and Alfred stepped inside followed by Bruce after wiping their shoes off on the welcome mat.

Bruce glanced around the small room and then spotted the woman on a couch just past another thresh-hold holding a bottle to baby.

He walked up to the woman and stared at the infant. “He's so small.”

The woman, Martha Kent, blinked and smiled at him. “He is.”

Jonathan entered the room. “Martha, this is Bruce Wayne and his guardian Alfred Pennyworth. They're staying here for a week.”

She smiled up at Alfred. “Welcome to our house, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“You may all call me Alfred, please, Mrs. Kent.”

“Then you should call us Jonathan and Martha,” Jonathan said as he walked over to some steps. “We don't have a lot of room. Bruce could stay in Clark's room Alfred. I'm sorry, but there's only the couch left.”

“The couch is fine, sir. I've slept in worse places in the past and it is only for a week.”

“If you're sure.”

“I am. Now, sir, may I know where I can place our luggage?”

Jonathan nodded and walked up the steps. “You can leave it all in Clark's room.”

When they disappeared Bruce asked, “May I sit?” He pointed to the empty spot on the couch next to Martha.

She nodded. “Of course you can, Bruce. You don't need to ask for something like that.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

She chuckled. “You can call me Martha.”

Bruce gulped. “I... I'll _try_.”

She blinked. “Oh. I'm sorry.”

“It's... okay, ma'am... Martha.”

He turned his gaze from her to the baby with small dark hairs on his head. “Martha, ma'am?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know why... my father betrothed me to your son?”

“Oh! I didn't think you knew about that... it's something your father and my husband decided all on their own.” She shook her head.

His gaze flickered up. “Are you angry?”

She sighed. “At first I was, but, you were chosen by Clark's biological parents.”

“Wait... Clark isn't yours?”

“He _is_ as much as any child can be. But he's not of our blood, only of our heart and soul.”

“Oh...” he looked back at the baby who turned his head from the bottle.

He blinked when blue eyes stared into his gaze. “My parents mentioned protecting him. But they are... _gone_.”

Martha reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. “No child should have had to witness what you did.”

He lowered his head, but could not take his eyes off those trusting blue eyes.

“No. They shouldn't,” and he was determined that Clark would not lose his parents too. But he already had. Why or how he didn't know. He had new parents. Was young enough not to know anything else.

He lifted his gaze and stared into the woman's eyes. “My parents said something about protecting Clark. I don't know why.”

Martha's mouth thinned. “You'll know why. Someday.”

“Someday,” he echoed.

She nodded. “Yes. For now, it is best that you not know. For Clark's safety and for your own.”

“Okay,” he sighed.

Clark began to fuss then and he watched Martha place a towel over her shoulder and then shifted the baby so that he lay his head on her towel-covered shoulder.

She patted Clark on the back until he belched.

He'd seen other women do that in the park's Alfred or his parents had taken him to. Had been told that when he'd been a baby they'd done the same for him.

Martha used the towel to wipe off Clark's mouth and then asked, “Would you like to hold him?”

He blinked and his eyes widened. “Hold him? I might drop him.”

“I'm right here, Bruce. I don't think you will. Now hold out your arms and hold him like this.”

She moved his arms so that Clark's head rested in one hand and the rest of his body in the other.

He was so _warm_. 

The baby with the blue eyes stared up at him, quietly, just breathing and nothing more.

“I will protect you,_” _he whispered so low he didn't think anyone could hear what he said. He'd been unable to keep his parents from harm. But he was determined to find a way to avenge his parents and keep the one his parents had chosen for him safe.

Just then he turned his head at the sound of footfalls coming from above.

Alfred quirked a brow. “I see you are getting acquainted with young Mister Kent, sir.”

Jonathan smiled at Martha and walked over to her and took her hand in his. “I think we're all settled for the time being. I'm a-goin' to take care of the field.”

She smiled and stood up. “I'll get started on supper.”

Bruce's brows furrowed. “It's too early for supper, isn't it?”

“I believe she means lunch, sir.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Martha smiled at him. “Can I count on you and Alfred to watch over Clark?”

Bruce nodded. “Always.”

“You may not say that Master Bruce when a diaper change is required.”

Martha and Jonathan both laughed as they each went through a different door.

Bruce's brows furrowed. “I  _will_ take care of him, Alfred.”

“Be that as it may, sir, you have never once in your life had to change a diaper.”

“Then I'll learn.”

“As he is your betrothed, perhaps you should wait to learn to do that at some other time. That way there is no embarrassment on his end.”

He glanced down at the baby and watched as his eyes drooped and finally closed. “Very well, Alfred.” He smiled at the infant and wished he could take him home to keep him safe. He only had a week to help look after him. That wasn't enough time at all, but he would find a way to keep him safe.  _Somehow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I just hope the title of the chapter fits the bill.


	3. Promise

Bruce had not liked having to leave Clark last year at the end of their one week stay on the little farm in Kansas. But he'd had his education to continue and Commissioner Gordon had not wanted him to be away too long. The man was still trying to find out just who had taken the lives of Thomas and Martha Wayne, leaving behind a child who had been witness to his parents' murder.

Only the thought of finding the culprit had kept him going, as well as Alfred urging him to do well in school, and one more thing. Not a thing. An individual. Someone innocent who he needed to protect. It didn't matter the reasons why either, only that it had been his father's wish. The last wish he knew of, of the man that he had so loved and still loved despite him not being there.

Glancing at their picture over the fireplace he heard Alfred step into the room.

“I do hope you'll grow out of this brooding phase, Master Bruce.”

He turned to glance at him. “Is everything ready, Alfred?”

The older man nodded, “Yes, sir. The plane is ready to go, as is our luggage.”

“And we're only staying for a week?”

“Indeed.”

“I wish we could stay longer.”

“Perhaps in the future, sir.”

He nodded. At least he'd be able to ascertain the safety of his betrothed. He still was not certain about the betrothal part, but it didn't matter. They were both far too young to think of such _matters_. Clark too young to even know anything about it.

When Alfred opened the door for him he walked outside and in the direction Alfred had landed the small plane. At least in Kansas, his memories didn't haunt his dreams turning them into nightmares.

* * *

When they arrived, Martha and Jonathan were outside with Clark.

Bruce blinked as he saw the infant had grown quite a bit since last he'd seen him a year ago. His hair had grown in and had a distinctive curl on his forehead.

He watched as Clark stood up on wobbly legs and walked – slowly – to Martha Kent.

Jonathan walked up to greet them. “Here Alfred, let me help you with that luggage.”

Alfred shook his head. “I've got it, thank you, Jonathan.”

Bruce walked up to Martha and Clark, “When did he start walking, ma'am?”

Martha quirked a brow, “Now Bruce, what did I say about calling me, ma'am?”

His face heated up and he ducked his head. “Martha.”

She smiled and picked Clark up. “He's been walking for about a month now. Clark, say hello to Bruce.”

Clark hid his face in the lapels of Martha's dress.

“Now Clark, honey, there's no reason to be shy.”

Clark turned his head and stared at him. “Ewo, Bwoos.”

Bruce blinked. “Hello, Clark,” he smiled at him.

Behind him, Alfred murmured, “It is a rare sight to see Master Bruce smile.”

Bruce didn't have many reasons to smile, but that Clark was safe and growing brought some semblance of joy to his life. While he did have other things that made him feel happy they were few.

Jonathan asked, “So, Bruce, do you want to learn how to milk a cow?”

Bruce shifted so that he could look up at Jonathan. The man was still tall to him, but not as tall as he'd been. Perhaps because Bruce himself had grown some since last they'd met.

“Milk a cow?”

Jonathan nodded.

He turned to look up at Alfred. “May I, Alfred?”

“It is highly unusual, for your family, but as the Kent's will one day be a part of your extended family, I don't see why not.”

Bruce nodded and turned back to Jonathan. “I would like to learn how to milk a cow, Jonathan.”

The man in the plaid shirt and jeans nodded. “Then come along with me while Martha shows Alfred inside.”

He followed Jonathan into the barn where he saw a large beast of an animal. Brown and white.

“I didn't know cows were so large.”

“There are larger cows, but Bessy here is a good lady. Treat her right and she won't make a fuss.”

He watched as Jonathan grabbed a bucket and sat down on a stool.

Bruce stared wide-eyed as the man took hold of the cow's teats and tugged on them. Saw the stream of milk pour into the bucket.

“Does that hurt Bessy, Jonathan?”

“No, I think it gives her some relief from having a full udder. Do you want to try?”

He gulped, uncertain about the cow, “I don't know.”

“You don't have to do it today, but by the end of the week, maybe?”

“Maybe,” he echoed.

“You know, Clark is going to learn how to do this and everything else on the farm.”

“He is?”

“He's a farmer's son.”

Then with a glimmer of determination in his eye, he said. “I'll try now.”

Jonathan chuckled and stood up so Bruce could sit where he'd been and instructed him in the proper etiquette of milking a cow.

It was strange, but he wanted not only to protect Clark and his family, but to know how to do the things Clark himself would one day learn to do. At least as much of it he could learn when he only spent a week during the summer at the Kent's farmhouse.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Jonathan, sir?”

“If you'd like to help me, sure, Bruce.”

He stood up, careful not to kick the bucket which the blonde man in plaid lifted up to carry outside of the barn.

“There's chickens that need fed and corn that needs harvested.”

“I'll help you with whatever you need while I'm here.”

“You're a good kid, Bruce, thank you.”

“You're welcome, sir.” He didn't think the man needed to thank him, but he was not about to argue with him. He wasn't Alfred and he didn't know what to say to him in the first place.

* * *

By the end of the day, he was hungry and exhausted as Jonathan led him back to the house and inside.

“I'm sorry Bruce, I didn't realize I was working you too hard.”

Alfred piped in then. “Do not worry Jonathan, Bruce has a tendency to hide when he's over-exerting himself as of late.”

“I see. Well, that just means he'll have an early night right after dinner.”

Bruce frowned, but before he opened his mouth to argue he heard a giggle. Turning to the source of the sound he smiled down and over at Clark on the carpet in front of the couch holding a teddy bear that was almost as big as he was.

He walked over to Clark and sat down. “Hello, Clark.”

Clark blinked and hugged his teddy bear to him. Then after a few seconds held out the bear to Bruce. “Hug.”

He stared at the bear for a few moments before taking it from Clark and giving it a hug. It had been awhile since he'd hugged any of the stuffed animals in his room. One by one they'd begun to disappear. They didn't comfort him as once they had. Not since that horrible night, some criminal had taken the lives of his parents.

Clark smiled and stood. On wobbly legs, he walked the few steps between them and pat his hand against the side of Bruce's face. “Happy?”

Bruce chuckled and smiled as he handed the teddy bear back. “The bear is nice,” but it didn't make him happy. Knowing Clark was safe did.

They both turned their heads at the sound of Martha's voice calling out.

“Dinner is ready.”

Bruce stood up and took Clark's hand and walked with him to the cozy little kitchen.

It wasn't the Manor. It never could be. And while it wasn't home to him – his parents had been his home – it came close.

Jonathan lifted Clark up and set him in the high chair as Bruce took a seat once Martha had sat down.

Looking away from Clark to Jonathan, he asked, “May I help tomorrow, Jonathan, sir?”

“If you would like to, Bruce, but if you get tired or you feel any kind of ache or pain, please let me know. Even I have to take a break now and then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alfred glanced at him. “You sound happy, Master Bruce.”

He ducked his head and smiled. Smallville wasn't Gotham. The people didn't ask him awkward questions. And Clark was a connection, albeit a small one, to his parents. But he liked the younger child because of his quiet and friendly nature.

For his parents, and for Clark, he promised to keep on living even when it proved difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I do hope you've enjoyed the story thus far. I'd love to know what you think!
> 
> Feel free to point out any grammatical errors. Even Grammarly can miss something at times, although there are some regional dialects that it tries to correct that I'm trying to infuse into the tale...
> 
> I'm open to suggestions in regards to this story, but please be aware I'm not obligated to use any, thanks!


	4. Plans

Another year had come to pass and summer arrived once more.

“Alfred, will we be going to visit the Kent's this summer?” He asked as he heard Alfred walk down the hall as he gazed out the window of the manor.

“If you would like to, Master Bruce, it can be arranged. We would have to let your instructors know before we do so.”

He turned and glanced up at Alfred. “Will you see to it, Alfred?”

“Of course, sir. I shall get right on that.” Alfred walked further down the hall and picked up an old telephone and began dialing.

He knew it would only be for a week. While he'd prefer a longer stay, he also did not want to be long away from his training. He had to be faster. Had to be stronger. Had to be smarter. There was so much he needed to learn so that he could one day fight against the criminals found within his city; Gotham.

Walking into the living room he glanced up at the framed photo of his parents and the boy he'd been.

Thus far the trail for their killer had grown cold, but he'd never stop searching for the truth. Neither would he stop his training, not when there were innocents out there losing their lives and other children suffering as he did. Many were lucky not to lay witness to it, but that didn't mean they hadn't lost just as much as himself.

He didn't know how long he gazed up at them when Alfred cleared his throat.

“Master Bruce?”

Shaking his head with a blink he turned to look up at Alfred. “Yes?”

“I have informed your instructors that you shall be gone for a week.”

“Were they upset?”

“I informed them they would still get paid for this week. _That_ seemed to ease them, but they said they looked forward to your return. It isn't often they get so young and serious a student.”

He nodded. There was no way he could afford _not_ to be serious. His training was a necessity. Paramount to the future he saw gaping before him.

“When will we be leaving?”

“By this evening, Master Bruce, once I've packed our bags and called up the Kent's.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“You're welcome, sir.”

* * *

Upon landing and exiting the plane as the sun began to set, Jonathan waved to them.

“Welcome to Smallville, Kansas; Alfred and Bruce.”

Alfred nodded, “Thank you, Jonathan.”

Bruce tilted his head. “It is good to be back, Jonathan, sir.”

“I bet you're looking for Martha and Clark, aren't you, Bruce?” Jonathan asked.

“Yes.”

“They're in the barn. We got a new dog, but didn't know she was expectin'.”

Bruce blinked. “Expecting?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She had seven puppies if you want to go check them out. I think Clark might already have chosen which one to keep.”

“I would like to see them.” He looked at Alfred. “May I, Alfred?”

“Of course, sir. I'll just take our luggage to the house.”

Jonathan walked with Alfred back to the farmhouse while he headed to the barn.

The barn door was wide open and he could hear giggles from inside.

“Clark! You're getting straw in your hair,” Martha chuckled.

Walking into the doorway he said, “Hello, Martha. Hello Clark.”

Martha smiled in his direction. “Hello, Bruce. It's nice to see you. Why don't you come over here and see the puppies.”

He walked over to where Clark sat on the ground inside the barn. Blinked when he saw a puppy licking his cheek as six other puppies ran around him yipping and yapping.

A fully grown border collie mix lay down not far away from them.

“Which one has Clark chosen?”

Martha grinned. “He'd choose all of them if he could. We're only keeping one.”

He wished he could have a dog. His parents had mentioned one before their deaths. But he didn't have time to take care of one and he wasn't about to ask Alfred.

“They're all nice dogs. What will you do with the rest?”

“One of our neighbor's is taking two of them when they've been weaned a bit longer. We're looking for a few more good homes for the other four.”

Clark glanced their way and waved. “Hello, Bwoos.”

“He remembers me?”

“Well, we kept some of the pictures from last year and he likes looking at them so he does have a reminder.”

“He still can't say my name right.”

“One day he will. Babies and toddlers have a hard time pronouncing words.”

Clark stood up and walked over to him without the wobbling from the previous year.

He blinked when the toddler hugged his leg.

Reaching down he picked him up. “You've gotten big,” he said as he brushed his fingers through curly black hair to remove the pieces of straw.

“So have you, Bruce,” Martha pointed out with a smile.

“Guess we're both still growing.”

“Well, two growing boys need fed. I'm going to get dinner ready, late as it is, but we were waiting for you and Alfred to arrive.”

“Thank you, Martha, ma'am.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “No need to thank me, Bruce. Can you bring Clark inside?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He said and followed her back to the farmhouse.

* * *

Alfred stared at Bruce as he set Clark in his high chair.

“Alfred, why do you look startled?” Jonathan asked as Martha finished plating their dinner and sat their dishes on the table.

“Master Bruce doesn't smile often and tends to brood, Jonathan.”

“Well, I'm glad he smiles when he's here. Clark tends to get upset when everyone is frowning.”

“That's right,” Martha nodded as she sat down followed by the men and boys in the room.

Bruce blinked when Clark picked up a tiny spoon and used it to eat with. The toddler made a small mess but was feeding himself.

Martha took note of his gaze and smiled fondly. “He's been making a fuss when I try to feed him. He wants to be a _big boy_ and eat on his own.”

“Every time I see him, he's learned something new.”

“As all children do, sir,” Alfred informed him.

He turned to his own plate with a smile and picked up his silverware.

Clark Joseph Kent was still safe. That was all that he really needed to know. And one day, when he was older and visited him in Gotham, he had to be certain no criminal could harm him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> I believe Clark is two years old here while Bruce is around eleven years old.


	5. Prepping

Bruce glanced into the mirror and picked up his comb and ran it through his hair.

“Master Bruce, please tell me what happened at school today.”

“Some of the other kids were trying to shove me around and said deplorable things about my parents that weren't true.”

Alfred sighed. “You shouldn't let yourself be provoked like that, sir.”

He frowned and set the comb down on the vanity. “I know.” He turned around and glanced up at Alfred. He'd grown to be chest height to him in the past year. “Alfred...”

“Yes, sir?”

“I'd prefer to be homeschooled.”

“Why, Master Bruce?”

“There are too many distractions at school and I can't study what I want to.”

“You need to know what they're teaching, sir.”

“I know, but I've already studied ahead two years. It is boring and off-putting.”

Alfred blinked. “You are as intelligent as your father and his father before him, Master Bruce.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Can it be done?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, “I will make arrangements for the upcoming year. Until then you will have to finish this last week before summer vacation begins.”

“Very well,” he sighed and walked out of the bathroom and into the master suite.

Alfred trailed behind him.

Picking up a pillow he sat down and glanced at Alfred. 

“Will that be all, sir?”

“Actually, Alfred, I hoped you could plan a week away in Smallville, Kansas.”

“You do miss that place, don't you?”

“Yes,” his gaze flickered to the large window and the balcony on the other side of it. It was the only place he felt he could well and truly smile. It's wide open skies and clean air so different from Gotham City.

“I'll go ring Jonathan and Martha now and see when they can accommodate us.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“You are welcome, sir.”

As Alfred left the room to go make calls, he reached underneath his pillow and pulled out a composition book.

Opening it's pages he plucked a pen off of the nightstand to write down plans on what he still needed to study to become the epitome of peak physical strength, dexterity, stealth and health. If he didn't already have teachers and mentors, he'd seek them out. Until then he'd continue training in gymnastics and martial arts within Gotham City limits.

He worried there might come a time when he had to leave his city of birth without Alfred and without those few brief days each summer where he vacationed in Kansas. But this year he was going to visit the Kent family again.

* * *

Jonathan Kent, as always, was there to meet them in the fallow field, which altered year by year around the farmstead. 

Alfred carried their luggage to the house, “I am always grateful that you're willing to accommodate us, Jonathan.”

“Think nothing of it, Alfred. You and Bruce are like family after all, as my dear wife would tell you if she weren't putting the clothes out to dry.”

Bruce walked around the house when they arrived at the sound of excited barking mixed in with loud giggles.

He blinked when he spotted Clark on a tricycle. He'd gotten bigger, _again_. Then again, just like himself he was a growing boy. Just a younger child. Not that he liked to think of himself as a child, but his age labeled him that by the books so he couldn't be too upset even when others called him a child. Except, he hadn't felt like a child, not since _that_ night.

“Hello!” He called out and watched Martha walk around a line of clothes.

“Why Bruce, it's good to see you again.” She waved.

He lifted his hand to wave back and approached her and Clark.

A little black dog wagging his tail barked and ran up to him.

“Hello, Hank,” he grinned at the dog and reached out his hand for the canine to sniff.

The dog gave his hand a lick before turning around and jumping around Clark.

Kneeling on the ground he waved to Clark, “Hello, Clark.”

Clark stopped pedaling and blinked up at him. “Hi, Bwuce.”

It was as close as he'd ever gotten to saying his name properly. He sounded as though he still had trouble pronouncing his R's. 

He watched him get up off the tricycle and placed his hand on his. “Bwuce, you want see baby chicks?”

Glancing toward Martha he asked, “May we?”

She chuckled. “Of course, Bruce. Clark, go show him the newest additions to the chicken coop.”

Clark beamed a smile at her and holding onto Bruce's hand he led him to the chicken coop.

He opened the door as the younger boy couldn't quite reach the door handle yet, but by next year it looked as though he would.

Once inside Clark walked over to one corner where a brown chicken rested. From beneath her a couple of yellow heads peered out at them.

Clark opened up a bucket with a lid, “Bwuce feed baby chicks?”

Stepping over to him he looked down into the bucket and noticed some kind of feed and a scoop. Using the scoop he poured some of the feed onto the floor of the chicken coop and watched as the hen got up and started pecking at the floor. Her brood of seven followed her example.

Clark grinned at the chicken and her chicks. 

An infectious grin that he couldn't help but mimic even as he turned back to put the scoop back inside the bucket and placed the cover back over the feed.

Every time he saw Clark, he noticed him gravitate toward the animals on the farm. Last year it was puppies, this year it was chickens.

Just then the chickens outside started squawking angrily.

“Oh no!” Clark cried out and ran out the door and Bruce followed. “No kitty!” He wagged a finger at an orange and white tabby.

Bruce frowned and picked up the cat. “What are you doing, cat?”

Clark glanced up at him, “Bwuce! Be nice to Mawmade.”

“Okay,” He gently sat the cat on the ground and watched him run toward the barn.

“He good mowsy.”

His brows furrowed, “Mowsy?”

He hadn't seen her, but Martha spoke off to their side, “He means Marmalade is a good mouser. If he knew what that really meant I don't think he'd be too pleased.”

Bruce winced as he realized what she meant. No, he didn't believe Clark would smile if he knew that Marmalade being a good mouser meant the cat killed the mice to eat. Then again this was a farm. Which meant they most likely ate animals raised on their own farm. Like the chickens and the cows. At least they were free to roam and enjoy life unlike what he'd heard about corporations cruel practices. Some video footage he should _never_ have looked at. Not at his age, anyway, but he was thirsty for knowledge.

“He'll know one day, won't he?”

“Yes,” Martha nodded as she wiped her hands on the apron she wore. “Now, why don't you bring Clark inside and we'll have ourselves some sandwiches and pop for lunch.”

Martha walked away and he turned to the three-year-old and asked, “Do you want me to carry you inside?”

“Yes, pwease, Bwuce.”

With a grin, he picked him up piggy-back style and ran toward the little farmhouse. Clark had one arm around his neck and waved the other into the air with giggles.

He hoped Clark Joseph Kent could always be so carefree. But one day he'd grow up. Yet he need not grow up as swiftly as Bruce himself had, had to.

Inside he found Alfred on the couch drinking a cup of tea.

Alfred glanced his way and quirked a brow, “I do wish you'd smile more, Master Bruce. Like you do whenever you're here.”

He lowered Clark to the floor and turned his gaze to the window. Gotham was a darker place than Smallville. Filled with corruption, where criminals ran rampant and went unchecked in great number. Where someone was needed and he was determined, somehow, to be what his city needed. And what Clark would one day need as he believed.

“I'm sorry, Alfred,” he sighed.

Clark looked up at him. “Bwuce?”

He glanced down and saw he held a box of crayons and a couple of coloring books. “Yes, Clark?”

“You want color wif me?”

It had been so long since he'd even looked a coloring book. “I'd love to, Clark.” He sat down at the coffee table with him and took the coloring book he wasn't using. Doing so just to see him smile and hear his infectious laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'd love to hear what readers think.  
I'm open to suggestions for future parts of this part of the series and future parts.


	6. Presents

It had been a harrowing year. Not because anything terrible had come to pass like the night he'd lost his parents, but because of the choices he'd made.

There was never a moment's rest. Not with his academics and everything else on top of it. His sensei, gymnastics instructor, and his trainer at the youth center that was big on boxing. The former two weren't quite what he needed and believed he'd need to seek greater master's in those disciplines far beyond the limits of Gotham City. But Mad Dog was pretty good in his own right. But even when he wasn't training with them he continued beyond them and the limits that were given to him.

He could _not_ have limits. Every time he achieved a goal it wasn't enough. Unfortunately he was only thirteen and could not so easily leave the city, or the country to locate those who could teach him how to do what was necessary in order to become what his city needed him to be. Not that he knew what that was quite yet, only that he had to perfect his body and mind.

Those were thoughts he did not wish to dwell on, not as the summer air wafted through the open window.

Stepping out onto the balcony he stared out over the estate and waved down at Alfred as he finished watering the flowers. “Alfred!”

Alfred glanced up. “Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Are we set to leave tomorrow?”

“We are, sir.”

“Good. Do you know what gifts would be appropriate?” He hadn't thought about it the previous years, but now he did. Martha and Jonathan each deserved _something_. More so Clark, but he didn't know what.

“Sir, they are farmers, so I am not sure what would be appropriate. Perhaps a new prized hen? However, I am certain that your usual help during the week is gift enough for them.”

“I have no idea where to purchase a hen, Alfred.”

“I could find out, sir.”

“Will you, please, Alfred?”

“As you wish, Master Bruce.”

He knew Clark liked chickens and their chicks. He already had two dogs, Hank and Hank's mother. They also had a cat on the farm as well as a cow.

One new chicken couldn't hurt, he thought, whether it was a chick or full-grown.

* * *

Later that evening, Alfred returned.

Bruce looked up from his reading, “Did you find a prize hen, Alfred?”

“I'm afraid not, sir.”

His brows furrowed. “Oh. I guess we don't have any farms around here.”

“Not close by, no, sir. However, I did find something that they may enjoy on the farm.”

He stood up. “What is it, Alfred?”

Alfred left the room only to bring in a cardboard box with holes in it. He placed it on the table. “Open it, sir.”

Staring at the box he took a step toward it and opened the top and stared down. “Ducks?”

“Yes, Master Bruce.”

“I hope Jonathan and Martha approve.”

“If they do not, we can find someone else to take care of them. It is the thought that counts, sir.”

“Clark will be heartbroken if he sees them and they don't keep them.”

“Perhaps, but let us wait to find out tomorrow when we reach the farm, shall we, sir?”

He nodded and closed the box so they didn't escape. Alfred would no doubt see to their needs.

* * *

Upon arriving at the familiar farm in Smallville, Kansas, he followed Alfred out of the small plane. Alfred carried their luggage and Bruce himself carried precious cargo.

Luckily the ducks were quiet, otherwise, the surprise would have been ruined.

Jonathan and Martha waved to them as Clark ran after the little black dog, Hank. The younger boy had grown again, perhaps a little on the tall side for his age bracket and dressed in a white t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and what looked like a red sheet.

It had been a long time since he'd had fun like that, at least back in Gotham. Here, at the farm, he was able to indulge, if only for a week at a time each year, in childhood even if it had been a long time since he'd thought of himself as a child or even the teenager he now was at thirteen.

He glanced up at Jonathan and Martha. “Hello Jonathan and Martha,” they'd long told him to refer to them by name rather than Mr. and Mrs. Kent as they were in a way, family.

Jonathan nodded to him and lightly patted his shoulder. “It's good to see you, Bruce. I hope your studies are going well.”

Martha chuckled. “Now, Jonathan, I'm sure that's Alfred's area.”

Jonathan nodded. “In another year, Clark will be starting school.”

He noticed the two of them shared a worried glance, but neither of them ever _explained_ anything. Even Alfred, as sharp as he was, was oft left in the dark.

If only his parents hadn't met their far too early demise at the end of a gun barrel. He shuddered at the memory that oft plagued him. Here the nightmares didn't intrude when asleep and rarely did so in his waking hours. However, the knowledge was always, _always_ there.

Glancing up at Alfred he asked, “May I go see Clark, Alfred?”

He nodded, “Of course, Master Bruce. I'm going to be with Jonathan and Martha in the house.”

Martha nodded, “So, please, do take care of Clark. We won't be too long.”

Jonathan whispered to Martha, but he, nor Alfred could hear what was said.

“Jonathan, they'll be fine!” She shook her head with a bemused smile and walked toward the house.

Not wanting to disappoint anyone he walked in the direction he'd last spotted Clark.

Took note of the dog leaping around in some tall grass and wildflowers. Which reached up to his own knees and spotted a tuft of dark hair among the natural beauty of the landscape.

“Clark?” He called out and blinked when he heard a giggle.

Then the tall grasses and flowers parted to make way for the little boy who had a single large sunflower.

“Hello, Bruce!”

He blinked and grinned at him, “So, you finally can pronounce my name?”

Clark nodded vigorously and held out the sunflower with big wide eyes, “For you.”

Setting the box with the air holes down he took the sunflower, “Thank you.” He found the sunflower to be bright and cheerful, just like the younger boy. There was hope that he never need be tainted by the darkness that plagued the world, but it was impossible. From what he heard and learned of the news throughout the world, no one remained unaffected for long. However perhaps whilst still a child, Clark need never learn about the evils of their world. “I have a present for you too.”

“Really?” His eyes, if possible, got even wider.

He nodded and pointed at the box, “You can open it. But be careful.”

Clark took a few small steps forward and knelt at the box. Glancing up at Bruce he took hold of the lid.

“Go on, Clark, you can open it.”

With a grin, Clark lowered his head, removed the lid, and gasped. “Ducks!”

Clark reached into the box and carefully picked up one of the ducks. They seemed docile enough; until the one inside the box started quaking.

“I don't think they like being separated.”

He watched Clark set the first duck on the ground and picked up the other to place them beside the first.

“Why don't they fly?”

“I don't know. Alfred found them after I asked to find a prized hen for your farm, but there were none around where we live. Maybe their wings have been clipped?”

“Oh.” Clark frowned, “They hurt?”

“I don't think it hurts them, just keeps them from flying away. Their flight feathers do grow back.”

They watched the two ducks waddle around and saw them start pecking at the ground and snapping their beaks at something on the tall grasses.

Jonathan, Martha, and Alfred left the farmhouse and walked over to them.

Clark grinned when he spotted them. “Ma! Pa! Look! Ducks!” He pointed at the two feathered fowl.

Jonathan quirked a brow. “So I see.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “I hope you don't mind, Jonathan, but Bruce was adamant he bring a gift.”

Martha chuckled. “No better gift than another animal to Clark.”

Jonathan stared down at the two ducks. “Well, if the duck is a good egg layer we'll have duck eggs to try. And if the drake proves worthy of his mate we might even see ducklings. Now Bruce,” Jonathan said.

Bruce glanced up at him from Clark and the ducks. “Yes, Jonathan, sir?”

“Since you brought the ducks, a shelter needs building and a pond needs shoveled. You're going to help, aren't you, boy?”

With a blink, he nodded. “Of course.”

Alfred offered, “I'll help as well.”

Martha smiled, “Thank you,” she turned to Clark, “gather up your new friends, Clark and we'll get them fed.”

“Yes, Ma!”

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

He held the sunflower up to him. "Is there a way to preserve this?"

"There is, sir."

Martha interjected. "You go help, Jonathan. I'll get this flower pressed and framed."

Alfred and Bruce both thanked her, "Thank you, Martha."

Bruce didn't mind helping on the farm, not at all. He still got time to spend with Clark, even if it was only in the evenings and on Saturday morning watching cartoons.

At least helping on the farm, in a way, was somewhat like training – in strength, dexterity, and endurance if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I do hope you enjoyed the chapter. If I've kept their ages as they should be in each chapter, Bruce here is thirteen-years-old which means Clark should be four-years-old.


	7. Peculiar

He knew! _Finally_. He realized just what he needed in order to fight against crime in his own city. And in doing so, track down his parents killer as thus far nothing had gone right in _that_ investigation.

Last night he'd had an epiphany when a bat flew into his room through the open window. The creature had given him a fright, but when the bat had flown back out, his own fears had given him an idea.

To fight in the dark against the darkness that plagued his city, he'd become a dark creature, a thing of fear, a _bat_. Surely that would put the fear into the criminals that roamed the streets of Gotham City, especially at night.

There was still a lot of training to be done before then. And somehow he needed to find a way to track down mentor's who could train him beyond what he had already learned and what he could still learn. To go beyond what a mere human like himself was capable of, as long as his body and mind could endure whatever it might entail.

Until then he'd train and keep his body fit. The epitome of health and intelligence. However, right then Alfred was landing the small plane nearby, as it was once again time to visit the Kent's and their farm.

Tossing back the covers he hurried to the bathroom to prepare for the day. Alfred already had their bags packed for the journey and their stay.

He didn't know how many more summers he'd be free for even a week to visit. Not with what he had planned for himself when he was just a little bit older. Sacrifices in his personal life had to be made if he was going to do what he planned to set out doing.

Once he'd finished his daily hygiene routine and dressed he hurried down the hall and stairs to Alfred waiting outside.

“Are you ready to go, Master Bruce?”

“Yes, Alfred. You've got everything on the plane, haven't you?”

“Indeed, sir.”

With a smile, he boarded the plane.

“It is always nice to see you smiling instead of brooding, Master Bruce. I only wish your own home still brought you joy.”

“Maybe it will, someday.”

“Maybe, sir. I am just glad that anything causes you to smile at all as Smallville, Kansas does.”

* * *

When they arrived on the farm, Bruce noticed that there were far more than just two ducks at the small pond that he and Alfred had helped Jonathan expand the year prior.

And by that same pond with the ducks, a black dog wagged his tail and trailed after the young boy.

“He just keeps growing, Alfred.”

“As do you, sir.”

He nodded. At times his body ached due to those growing pains as some people chose to label them. And he wasn't done yet, which meant his center of gravity might continue to shift due to that as well as his training to gain and retain peak physical health and stamina.

It hadn't gone unnoticed either. Not by the girls his age, nor their mothers who were hoping to gain some sort of alliance. They were far too young to wed, but that didn't stop them from trying to get him to date their debutantes.

None of them knew what he and Alfred did. The only other ones who knew were either dead or lived on a little farm in Smallville, Kansas.

He didn't have time to date anyway. Puppy love was _not_ for him. All his spare time was spent focused on his schooling, his training, and the times that Alfred said he had to attend some gala, function, or another shindig that he'd rather have skipped out on.

Jonathan, spotting them, walked up and greeted them. “Welcome to the Kent family farm, Alfred,” he nodded to Alfred who had his hands full and then to Bruce, “Bruce,” whom he held out his hand to.

He need not practice a limp handed shake with this man. He wasn't a Gothamite. Plus he was the father – of the heart – of Clark Joseph Kent. The one his own parents had chosen for him. He'd honor their wishes when it was appropriate to do so.

“Hello, Jonathan. How are you, Martha, and Clark?”

They finished their handshake and Jonathan grinned.

“My wife is doing well. She's in the kitchen preparing a meal for ya'll. Clark's doing well too, just running after the new ducklings. Why don't you run along and keep an eye on him for me while I help get Alfred settled inside.”

He nodded and turned toward the pond where he'd spotted Clark with his always faithful companion.

“Clark!” He called out as he approached.

Clark glanced up from where he was knelt at the side of the pond and flashed him a grin. He lifted a hand and waved. “Hello, Bruce!”

At least he still recognized him. Probably from the photos Alfred sometimes sent.

“What do you have there, Clark?”

“Seven ducklings!” He grinned again.

He walked around the small pond and right up beside Clark and stared down at the water where a mother duck waited for her ducklings to enter the water.

“Is that Keya?”

“Yeah!”

“They didn't fly away, did they?”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “When?”

“For winter.”

“They came back?”

Clark nodded.

“Well, that's good, isn't it?”

“Yes! I missed them.” He looked up, “I missed you.”

He blinked and sighed. “I missed you, too, Clark. But my home is Gotham City.” And Clark's home was Smallville. He had no idea how his parents or Clark's parents thought this was going to work. Friendship was one thing, but what they wanted for the future for them, well that was a mystery.

He knew Clark was too young to understand. In fact, he didn't really understand any of it other than the need to protect the younger boy. Maybe he didn't even know about the pact their parents had made. Perhaps he never would. He had no idea if the plans their parents had made were even still viable anymore. Yet he couldn't bring himself to ask.

Clark stood up and walked over to Hank. “Ma's calling.”

His brows furrowed, “I didn't hear her.”

Clark's eyes widened and then he ducked his head. 

_Odd_.

Then he turned around and saw Martha outside the farmhouse waving to them. Maybe he'd misheard, or Clark had seen her waving.

“Well, let's go to your Ma, Clark. I'm sure she's made something delicious.”

Clark looked up and grinned at him. He reached for his hand and they half-walked, half-ran with Hank barking behind them.

“Are you boys hungry?”

Clark nodded and let go of Bruce's hand.

“I am, Martha, ma'am.”

“Well, come on in then and have a seat. Jonathan and Alfred are waiting for you both. I do hope you like chili.”

“I'm not sure I've ever had chili, Martha.”

Alfred shook his head. “I'm afraid that is one dish I've never made for Master Bruce, Martha.”

“Well, it's about time he did.”

They all sat down once each of their bowls were filled and they had a piece of homemade cornbread on a saucer to the side along with a glass of milk each.

“This is good, Martha,” Bruce said between bites.

Alfred nodded. “It is.”

Jonathan grinned, “My wife is the finest cook in all of Smallville, maybe in all of Kansas.”

Martha blushed and shook her head, “Oh, go on you.”

Unlike some of the couples he'd seen at charity events, Jonathan and Martha Kent were truly a happily married couple. As had his own parents been.

Recalling those happy days, he felt a pang and as his smile faded he quickly took another spoonful of chili.

Clark, who sat next to him, no longer in any highchair, but a booster seat, reached over and pat him on the arm.

Just that brought him out of his melancholy thoughts and he quirked a brow. “What is it, Clark?”

Clark blinked. “Do you want to ride the horses?”

“Horses?”

He nodded.

Jonathan chuckled. “He's finally learned how to ride a horse, so any opportunity he finds, he takes it.”

“I have never ridden a horse.”

“Well then, how about I teach you how this week?”

“I would like that, Jonathan, sir.” His smile returned, “I can't let Clark best me, now can I?”

The adults at the table chuckled while he and Clark each took another bite of their own chili and then a piece of the cornbread.

Sometimes he wished the Kent's lived in Gotham City, or at least their farm was closer so he could easily visit them every weekend. But then he remembered the criminals that still got away with far too much in the city of his birth. Where his ancestors had built the foundation of their entrepreneurial empire, Wayne Enterprises.

Here, they remained unburdened by that life. And he didn't want Clark to ever lose his parents, not as he had. So it was best they didn't visit his city. They were safer that way. Maybe when Clark was older and no longer a child, it would be different.

There had to be a way to make sure of it. And the only way to be certain of it was to make sure of it himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I do hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
Here Clark would be five-years-old and Bruce would be fourteen-years-old.  
Did anyone spot the peculiar moment?


	8. Playful

Slamming his fist into the weighted bag, he grunted at the impact. It didn't hurt as much as it had to begin with, but he _still_ wasn't getting as far as he'd have liked to in regard to his training. Of course, Alfred made sure that his schooling was not neglected. Even though he was _ahead_ of peers his age by at least a year. Of course, he put that down to his tutors being available to him year-round and homeschooling so that he could be finished quicker.

He stared down at his knuckles, each of them sore. For the past year his hands had grown more and more calloused. Which meant he needed to invest in _something_ so that it wasn't an easy tell if he were ever to see his goals come to fruition.

Gotham itself was rife with crime and he in his lofty tower of Wayne Manor, as he was, had done nothing. He couldn't. Not until he was ready and his body, it still needed to be honed into a well oiled machine. Of course still growing, if even a little bit, kept throwing his center of gravity off. Not by much, but by enough that he knew he _couldn't_ yet sneak out at night. But _soon_.

Unwrapping the white tape from around his hands and fingers he heard the door open. 

“Alfred? It hasn't been three hours yet,” that was the _minimum_ he required to do his training, once he'd finished his assignments.

“Indeed, Master Bruce, I was checking to see if you intended to head to the Kent Farm this year.”

His entire body stiffened before he turned around to gaze at Alfred. They were around the same height and had been for only a couple of months.

“Is it that time, already, Alfred?”

Alfred maintained his posture, “Yes, sir, it is.”

“Are my tutors aware?”

“They have been informed, sir, that you will have the week off.”

“When do we leave?” He asked as he placed the used boxing tape in the trashcan by the door off to Alfred's side.

“Within the hour, Master Bruce. I've arranged for the private jet and taken care of our luggage.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course, Master Bruce.”

It _had_ been so long since he'd last seen that small ray of sunshine and his infectious smiles. The fresh farm air second only to the younger boy who'd he'd already promised to protect and it was one promise he didn't intend to break, even if he couldn't always be there. But Smallville itself seemed relatively safe. A far cry better than Gotham.

Whilst waiting on the jet he took a quick shower and, once dressed he reluctantly, allowed Alfred to see to his bruised knuckles.

Alfred arched his brows. “Do you not believe you are taking this a bit far, Master Bruce?”

He shook his head. “No. I have to get stronger if I'm going to protect the city and...” he trailed off as Alfred removed his hands.

“The Kent boy?”

“Yes.”

“Sir, Clark Joseph Kent is _not_ your responsibility.”

He frowned. “Alfred, it's what my _parents_ wanted.” One of the last things they'd told him about and thus important. There was no way he was going to back out of it, although the part where they were supposed to get married? Yeah, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

Alfred sighed. “Your _father_ placed too much pressure upon your young shoulders, and the Kent boy's too, Master Bruce.”

“Does he know?”

“I doubt it. I do not think the Kent's planned on telling him until he was an adult. Maybe they might not tell him at all, sir.”

He glanced down the hall to the stairwell. “It doesn't matter, Alfred, I'm going to make sure he has a good life.” He didn't want him to be tainted by the horrors that he'd faced. That his city spilled onto its buildings and streets night by night, thrusting the invisible knife deeper and deeper until the city began to choke. In time, he'd be able to give her some relief, but until then he could only train, read, learn, and one week out of the year, check on his young friend. Where he could enjoy the company and the fresh air.

“It is good you think so fondly of him, Master Bruce, but do try _not_ to put him on a pedestal. There are some things not even _you_ can prevent or predict.”

He _knew_ that. Of course, he did. Even if he didn't want to hear it. “Alfred, he's just so pure. I don't want to see that taken from him.”

“That is understandable sir, but everyone grows up and few, if any remain as pure as they were as a child.”

“We'll see, Alfred, we'll see.”

“Of course, Master Bruce.” He said as they reached the door downstairs and picked up their luggage.

* * *

Upon leaving the jet once they'd landed, Bruce caught sight of Clark over by his mother, Martha Kent's, side. Dressed up in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, a red sheet flowing behind him connected to his neck.

He watched him throw a stick for hank as the sun shined down upon him. For a moment he thought Clark himself was aglow. He shook his head, it was just the sunlight reflecting.

A cape... he figured that _might_ be useful. Especially in the design he hoped to go with once he stopped growing and had gotten some sort of experience. Of course, his wouldn't be a silly red sheet.

Jonathan Kent glanced at him. “You're getting big, boy.”

Alfred nodded. “That he is, Jonathan.”

Bruce blinked and grinned, “I'll be taller than you _both_ soon.” He still had some growing to do. Alfred had mentioned it, even if he had warned there was a possibility that he wouldn't. Yet he _hadn't_ stopped. He'd grown a little bit in the past month alone.

“Ya can go see Clark if ya want, Bruce. I'll help Alfred with the luggage. Clark's talked non-stop the past couple of days since he found out you were coming for a visit.”

Clark turned and placed the knuckles of his hands on his hips, elbows outward.

Jonathan stopped then, his gaze upon Clark himself. “Makes for quite a sight, doesn't he? Like a hero in the making whose gonna do a lot for the world.”

There was a melancholy hint to his tone, but before Bruce could analyze it further, Alfred and Jonathan had the luggage and Martha Kent spotted him and waved.

Clark flashed a grin at him and with the dog, Hank, ran over.

“Hi, Bruce, glad ya could make it!”

He chuckled. “Oh, you're speaking in full sentences now?” And he was able to pronounce his name correctly, even if there were a Midwestern drawl that Clark had gained from his parents of the heart and soul.

“Ya! I'm goin' ta school now too.”

“Oh? And how is your teacher treating you?”

“She's nice!” His gaze lowered and the corners of his mouth dipped into a frown.

Bruce stared, fingers trembled, he was _not_ accustomed to seeing _that_ look on Clark. “Clark? Are you okay?”

Clark looked up at him. “Yeah...” he trailed off.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Clark glanced in the direction his father had gone, then over at his mother before returning his gaze to Bruce. “The other kids ain't nice.”

“None of them?”

Clark shook his head. Then paused. “We-ell, Lana's okay. Sometimes.”

“At least that's one person, even if its only one.” Ever since he'd lost his parents, he really had _not_ connected with anyone. Less so since he'd decided to take lessons at home, instead of at the school due to how the other children acted around him.

The younger boy sighed and then grinned, “Ma said we're gonna be bobbin' for apples later. And she made homemade apple cider and applesauce!”

He quirked a brow. “Oh? Is it any good?”

Clark's eyes widened and his mouth gaped as he stared up at him before sputtering. “Of course! Ma makes the best _everything!_ All her food is _better_ than good.”

Bruce couldn't hold back a chuckle at how earnest the younger dar- haired boy was. Defending his Ma's cooking like he was.

He reached out and ruffled Clark's hair. “Well, until then, what should we do?”

“We could climb a tree!”

“I think not, Clark, you could fall out and hurt yourself.”

Clark's brows furrowed. He opened his mouth, then closed his lips. “Hide and seek?”

“And just who is going to hide, Clark?”

“Me!” He pointed at himself and grinned. “Do ya think ya can find me?”

“Oh. I'm sure I'll be able to find you, Clark.”

Clark stared up at him, his brows arched and his hands on his hips again. “We'll see, Bruce! Ya just close your eyes, count to twenty-five, and then ya can try and find me.”

“That's simple enough.” He grinned and closed his eyes. “One. Two. Three.” He heard Clark shuffling and running away as he counted.

“Twenty-five,” he said and opened his eyes. He turned his head to gaze in the direction he _believed_ Clark had headed in. Which was where the barn sat.

Before moving in that direction he glanced up at the tree, making sure that Clark had _not_ climbed it. When he did not find him there, which he had thought would be the case he turned toward the barn and took careful steps toward the building.

Clark was _quiet_. Almost _too_ quiet. He thought kids so young would be laughing, even when they were hiding.

Bruce gulped. His own parents had still been alive when he was six-years-old himself. And though they'd been busy, now and then they'd play a game instead of reading classic literature or watching movies.

His heart pounding, he heard the rush of his blood. Shaking his head he took one slow calming breath after another, counting until he'd calmed.

Clark was okay. He had to be. Just because he couldn't see him, just because he couldn't hear him, didn't mean anything had happened to him. They were playing hide and seek. Clearly the younger boy was a natural.

Bruce hurried into the barn. Glanced at the cow as she mooed. His brows furrowed. He didn't see any sneakers, or sign of jeans or that silly red sheet.

Then he heard a yip followed by a, “Shh!” and a giggle.

His brows relaxed and his grimace disappeared to be replaced by a smile. He turned and walked over to the bales of hay and peered over them down at a dark head of hair.

“I see _you_, Clark,” he chuckled, “and Hank too.”

Clark tilted his head back and gazed up at him with a bashful grin. “You found me.” He then knelt down and scratched behind Hanks' ears.

“You should have told Hank to stay, and I might not have found you as quick as I did.”

“Maybe.” Clark stood up and walked around the bales of hay, his dog trailing at his heel. “Ma should have food on the table by now.”

Bruce held out his hand to Clark, “Then let's go and wash up.”

Clark slipped his small hand into Bruce's and they left the barn to head for the main house that had the scent of roasted vegetables, home fried chicken, and brownies.

Once inside and washed up, they sat down at the kitchen table.

Alfred nodded to Bruce and he nodded back. Maybe his friend, his guardian, his butler had come to the conclusion that Bruce, as he'd told him before, was bound and determined to keep Clark Joseph Kent safe and a part of his life. All of the Kents and their farm in Smallville Kansas had become an important and integral part of his life.

Here, he didn't feel so alone and without hope. Smallville was a good place filled with good people. And if a place like Smallville, Kansas existed and people like the Kent's did, then there was hope for the rest of the world. Hope, even for Gotham City and its streets rife with criminals. But criminals, they needed something, or _someone_ to fear.

He ate quietly and listened to Alfred, Mr. and Mrs. Kent catch up. 

Clark, as Mrs. Kent passed a plate to him, turned to Bruce with a grin. “Bruce, have a Brownie. I helped Ma with them.”

With a blink, Bruce glanced down at the offering and chuckled. “Thank you, Clark,” he took a bite and hummed. “Delicious.”

Clark's grin widened and then he bit into his own, getting chocolate crumbs all over his lips and chin.

Bruce, seeing the mess, picked up a napkin once Clark had finished and wiped off the crumbs. 

Clark blinked. “Thank ya, Bruce.” Then he pushed his chair back and picked up his plate in order to help his mother clear the table.

“You're welcome,” he smiled and picked up his own plate. While he was a guest, he always made sure to help out, at least when he visited the Kent Place.

Just so long as Clark never lost his sunny smile, all would be right with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I'd love to know what you think of this chapter.  
I'm pretty sure that Bruce here is 15 and Clark is 6.
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll get another chapter in due to electronic issues at home. My own laptop hit the bucket and with paying taxes and whatnot it may be a bit before I get a new PC. I don't often visit the library since it's not as close as I'd like.


	9. Praxises

Bruce stared out the window of the jet as they headed for Smallville, Kansas for the seventh summer in a row. This time however would likely be the last. At least for awhile. It did hinge on how well things went in his own travels. Something he had not once told Alfred about as the man who had raised him since his parents passing would no doubt try to stop him. Which he did _not_ want. No, he had to do this and thus had packed an extra bag with essentials. A backpack, clothing, and two sets of boots that would have to do.

His training had only gotten him so far. There were _others_ in the world that he'd have to seek out if he wanted to continue to grow and adapt. To be in peak health and physical condition that a human could without the use of steroids or other crutches.

How long it would take, he remained unsure, but he had no doubt it would take longer than a single year away from everything he'd ever known. Even away from the portrait of his parents and their graves. But for them, he would counting marching on. Gotham City had been their home and he would see to it that where once they'd trod would one day be free of the scum that tainted its streets and the buildings that stood on hallowed ground.

There was little to fear. Death was inevitable, but he had the drive and determination to weather it all. He could not, _would_ not fail in his quest to fight crime. It was his mission in life. To honor the dead who'd lost their lives because of gun toting maniacs and to keep safe the innocent. So that no child ever had to suffer the same loss as he had. And so that, if Clark Joseph Kent ever set foot in Gotham, he too would be protected from the darkness that cast over Gotham.

At times, he wondered if he even deserved to have such a light in his life, when all he saw was darkness. When all he wanted was to invoke fear to keep the criminals in line, to even stop all crime. The latter however was impossible. Especially in a single lifetime. There would always be corruption, but some places, like his own city, seemed to be rife with it that at times it felt like the whole city bleed each night and wailed each morning.

Gotham City needed a guardian. And he wasn't yet ready to take on that role. But once he'd learned all he could, then he'd begin.

“Master Bruce?”

He blinked and lifted his head. Glanced to his side. “Yes, Alfred?”

“We're about to land, sir. Are you quite alright?”

“I'm fine, Alfred.”

Alfred's brows raised, so minuscule it was nearly missed. But Bruce had seen it, and was used to seeing it. Even though it barely, if at all, altered Alfred's expression. “Of course, Master Bruce.”

Alfred was too perceptive. He only hoped the man wasn't aware of his plans. That he hadn't found the hidden bag, the cash he'd stowed away – he didn't intend leaving a paper trail - for months, if not years, or the journal with his planned itinerary. Not that he would keep to the itinerary if something better cropped up that would help him on his quest.

When Alfred buckled in, he followed suit. Soon they'd find themselves in an open field next to a field of corn stalks and the smell of fresh apple and cherry pies. But it wasn't the food, or even the fresh country air that called to him. No, what called to him was the sunny smile of his young friend.

Once the jet had landed and they were unbuckled, he hurried down the steps and grinned when he saw the entire Kent clan and their dog Hank waiting for them.

Clark waved, “Hi, Bruce!”

He waved back and walked over to the group with Alfred following behind with their luggage. He'd made sure that the spare bag was somewhere, where the rest of their things weren't.

Briefly, he wondered where the pilot always went during the week, as he always left the jet there. The pilot couldn't go too far, so he assumed it was a week vacation for them too, but they always left for elsewhere.

Clark ran up to him and jumped into his arms when Bruce knelt down on the ground. Arms around each other in a quick hug.

“You grew!” He chuckled.

“I think you did too, Bruce.” Clark grinned.

“So, what do you think your Pa will have me getting into, today?”

“It's Sunday an' we finished most of the chores before ya got 'ere,” Clark said as he was placed back down on the ground.

Jonathan offered to take some of the luggage from Alfred.

Martha smiled at Clark and Bruce. “Why don't you two enjoy the sunshine. It won't be too long before it starts pouring out tonight and into tomorrow.”

Bruce nodded. “Thank you, ma'am.”

She nodded and turned to head back to the main house with the others.

Glancing down at Clark, he held out his hand to him, “Why don't you show me around? It's been a year, so there must be something new.”

Clark nodded. “There is! We got a new mouser. She just showed up a week ago and had a litter in the barn.”

“Your Ma and Pa weren't mad?”

“Na. They just laughed. We can keep the mama, and maybe one of 'er kittens, but the others need homes. When they're big enough ta leave their Ma.”

Bruce wished that Gotham City were a little more like Smallville, Kansas. Their sizes were vastly different, but it was so much simpler. With good and kind people who looked out for each other. He'd even learned there weren't too many who kept their doors locked. There was rarely a need. But the Kent's, for whatever reason, _did_ keep their own place locked up. He'd learned they'd only done so after adopting Clark.

He couldn't imagine not having known his _real_ parents. But the Kent's loved their son and Clark loved them. He saw it in their faces every time he visited. Still, he never broached the subject with Clark. He wasn't sure he even knew if he was adopted, or not. Some things just were _not_ meant to be brought up, lest they awaken sorrow. He and sorrow, he and anger, they were old familiar friends. Emotions he would not wish upon even his worst enemy – though there had been times when he did. Moments where his emotions got the better of him, and that, that was something he had to work on _still_. Or he'd not be of help to anyone.

Bruce let Clark lead him around the farm. Showing him the new crops. Hanks new toys. An old wagon that Jonathan Kent had spruced up that Clark liked to tug around.

There were moments where he envied Clark with his happy family, cozy home, and his close knit community with barely any crime. Or any crime that went beyond pranks. Thus far he'd not heard of anyone committing assault and battery, or worse. But he wondered even so if there weren't any skeletons hidden in the closet. Thus far he hadn't found any and hoped there weren't any to be found. _Somewhere_ had to be as near to perfect as one could get and he felt like Clark's hometown was just that. An oasis of peace in a desert of criminal chaos.

Even _that_ he worried could be pulled out from under his feet. Things he was aware of that his young friend _wasn't_. No one, especially not a child, should ever have to suffer as he had. For as long as he could, he'd keep Clark away from the darkness that plagued a great portion of the world. Where greed for power and money were what drove the people and that greed along with other sins brought only pain to those around them, for there were those who'd do anything to get what they wanted. Including murder.

“Bruce!?” Clark called to him as he tugged on his hand.

Shaking his head and blinking his eyes, he let his mind clear of those dark thoughts and turned to gaze down at the bright light that was in his life, if only briefly throughout the years.

“Sorry, Clark, what were you saying?”

“We need ta go see if Ma has dinner put on the table.”

“Is it that late already?” He glanced around and took note of where the sun was in comparison to earlier.

“Yeah! Hank already took off. Ma made his favorite. Ham!”

Bruce chuckled. “Well then, we'd best not keep Hank waiting.”

Clark grinned. “Or Ma!”

He followed beside Clark to the main house. And wondered, briefly, if he should tell Clark he was leaving. Perhaps on the last day, out of earshot of Alfred.

* * *

The night before Bruce was supposed to leave, he woke in the middle of the night with the moon shining down upon him.

He slipped from beneath the blankets and tiptoed down the stairs. Stilled when he saw a figure at the kitchen table pouring a glass of orange juice.

“Clark?” He whispered.

The younger boy looked up with wide eyes. “Bruce?”

He walked over to him after getting out a glass for himself and sat down. “Why are you awake?”

Clark lowered his gaze and shook his head.

His young friend had never _not_ told him something. Maybe it had been a nightmare? Best not to make him dwell on it, if it was.

“It's okay Clark, you don't have to tell me.”

Clark glanced up and smiled at him.

It looked as if he'd been crying upon closer inspection. He reached out to thumb away a trail of tears on each cheek. “How about we enjoy a glass of orange juice and then get you back to bed?”

Clark nodded and took a sip from his small glass as Bruce poured a little for himself.

Once both glasses were empty, Bruce closed the carton and placed it back in the fridge.

Clark still sat in the chair, but had turned in it to watch him. “What's wrong?”

He wondered how a child as young as Clark could be so perceptive. Maybe he had an intelligence beyond his years. Maybe even like himself that way, but he didn't know. It wasn't something he'd ever dwelled on considering how little time they spent together. A week out of every summer since he'd learned of him.

Bruce squatted in front of Clark so that they were eye to eye. “Promise you'll tell no one if I tell you?”

Blue eyes widened. “P-promise. I won't tell no one.”

“Good.” He sighed. “I'm going somewhere.”

“Where?”

Bruce shook his head. “I can't tell you _that_. Only that I'm going somewhere and... I won't be here next summer.”

Clark's eyes glistened and his usual smile was nowhere to be seen. It was instead replaced by a deep frown. “Why? Di-did I do something?” His hands were on his knees and fingers curled into the pajama pants.

“No, Clark. You didn't do anything. This is... it's something I have to do.”

“Oh...,” he ducked his head with a sniffle.

“I'll miss you, Clark Joseph Kent. But when... when I'm done, I'll come to see you again.”

The younger boy lifted his head to stare into his eyes. “You will?”

“Of course. You're my friend. Probably my best friend, after Alfred.”

“You're my best-friend too, Bruce,” he lifted an arm and wiped his tears on the back of the sleeve. “I'll miss you, too. How... how long?” He asked as he lowered his hand back.

“I don't know, Clark. However long it takes. But we'll be under the same stars in the sky, no matter the distance that separates us. I may not be in Gotham, or in Smallville, but we'll still be friends, won't we?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah. The best!”

He lifted a hand and ruffled the younger boys dark hair as he stood. “Now, let's get you tucked back into bed.”

They set the glasses by the sink and Bruce walked Clark back to his room.

Bruce pulled back the covers and waited for Clark to lay down and snuggle into his pillows.

“G'night Bruce,” Clark smiled up at him, though his lower lip had the tiniest tremble.

Bruce's heart clenched at the sadness prevalent, but it wasn't enough to stave him off the path he'd decided upon.

He tugged the blanket over Clark, and tucked in the sides. Lowered his head and brushed his lips over the younger boys forehead. Like his parents had done each night when they'd been alive. Like he'd seen Clark's parent's do for him.

“Until we meet again, Clark,” he whispered to him. Then stood and turned to head out the door. It was time to invade the jet for his back pack and take the ticket he'd purchased with cash that would get him a plane ride overseas where he'd begin on the path to becoming The Batman.

The plans he'd made were _finally_ be put into action. It didn't matter that he was only sixteen going on seventeen. There was nothing that he'd allow to keep him from doing what was necessary. Even if it meant lying to and hiding from Alfred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. I would love to hear what you think of it!


	10. Philoxenia

It was the sixth summer since Clark had seen, or heard from his best-friend, Bruce Wayne. The older boy’s butler still visited one week out of the year. But it had  _ never _ been the same. And as he’d grown and learned things be they at home, or at school, he’d begun to fear the worst may have happened. That Bruce was hurt somewhere out in the world, or  _ worse _ . Clark wished then that he’d understood his manifesting powers back then, so he could have memorized the sound of his voice and the beat of his heart. Then maybe he'd know whether or not Bruce walked among the living - wherever it was he’d gone.

Shaking his head of the melancholy thoughts he hopped down from the tree branch as he noticed Lana Lang’s approach. He waved, “Hi, Lana!”

“Clark! How are you doing?”

“Good,” he grinned. In the last month before school had gotten out he’d begun to take notice of the girls. Specifically  _ her. _ Although his eyes had strayed to the guys, he’d quickly deduced that it was just curiosity. About what girls found attractive.  _ Nothing _ else. He did  _ not _ need anything else making him stick out, or anything that might upset either of his parents.

Clark asked, “Did you want to take a walk?”

“As long as it’s a quick walk, Clark. I’ve got to finish running an errand and then head back home.”

“Oh?”

“Delivering a package for your mother.”

“Well, I can walk you to the house and back home.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Clark.”

However, when they got to the house, his Pa frowned at him.

“Clark, can ya come inside a minuet, I need ta talk ta ya.  _ Alone _ .”

Lana blinked up at Pa Kent. “Is Mrs. Kent home?”

“She’ll be down in a minute. She were putting away the laundry. Ya can wait on the swing, it’s a nice enough day for it.”

“Oh… okay, thank you Mr. Kent.”

Clark mouthed, “Sorry,” to her and followed his Pa inside. He watched his Pa pull out a chair at the kitchen table.

“Sit, son.”

“Am I in trouble?” He couldn’t think of anything he could have done.

“Yer not in trouble, son, but I need ta tell ya something. Before ya go chasing that girls skirts.”

“You and Ma already told me about the birds and the bees.”

“That ain’t it, Clark.”

He sat down on the chair and watched Pa sit in another.

“Now, ya know what we told ya last month about where ya really came from, right?”

He nodded.

“Well, we left something out ‘bout that.”

He blinked. “What, Pa?”

“Ya see, yer birth parents left an extra note. We didn’t think ya’d need to know ‘bout it at the time. We thought it’d be another couple of years before ya needed to know.”

“Know what?” He stared at his Pa through wide eyes.

“Now, don’tcha worry none, Clark. Ya just need to know yer parents betrothed ya ta someone.”

He stood up, grabbed the chair before it could topple over, “What!?”

Pa frowned at him. “Clark, sit yer rear back down.”

With a sigh he sank back into the chair.

“So, ya need to think about it. Ya can’t promise nothin’ ta anyone. Unless ya wanna break the betrothal.”

He worried his lower lip between his teeth. “I… I don’t know, Pa. My parents wanted me ta marry someone of their choosing. I dun even know if my birth parents are alive, or why they sent me here.”

“They must’a had their reasons.”

“Have I met this person? Are… are they  _ alive _ ?”

“Ya’ve met  _ him _ , but I dunno if they’re alive, or not. Been some years since we’ve heard from him.”

“ _ Him!?  _ Who!?” He felt sure his Pa, if not also Ma, would have been horrified at the idea of two  _ males _ together. But Pa didn’t sound worried at all. Had  _ known _ about this betrothal since Clark was an infant!

“Bruce Wayne.”

“B-Br-Bruce?” He felt slightly dizzy for a moment as he processed the news. “D-does he  _ know _ ?”

“He’s known all along, son.”

“Is that why he disappeared?”

“No, Clark. That weren’t why, but not even Alfred Pennyworth knows why he ran off. And Alfred’s beside himself, the boy was like a son to him after all.”

If he were older, or if his parents would agree to it, he’d leave right now and run around the world as far as he could to look for Bruce.

“This… I can’t date Lana knowing this…”

“I didn’t think so. Besides, yer too young to be sowing yer wild oats.” Pa reached over and patted Clark on the shoulder. “Thought ya’d need to know before things went too far.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. If his powers weren’t enough to deal with to keep him from getting anywhere with Lana, this was a dealbreaker. And now he felt it was even more important to find, or at least learn the whereabouts of Bruce Wayne. So he could find out what he planned on doing. The older boy was an adult by now and around nine years older than him!

He turned his head when the telephone rang and Ma went outside.

Pa picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Clark listened in via super-hearing. His Pa might get mad at him, since it was eavesdropping. Although he could already hear his Pa’s side of the conversation anyway.

“Alfred! It’s good to hear from ya.”

_ “And it is good to hear your voice, Jonathan. I do hope you and your family are doing well.” _

“Can’t complain. Ya still comin’ for a visit?”

_ “Yes. But not alone _ .”

“Whatcha mean, not alone? Ya got yourself a knew lady-friend?”

Alfred chuckled. Once. “Nothing of the kind. No. Master Wayne has been in touch with me and said he’d meet me in Smallville, Kansas. He’s there now in town.”

“Ya need me to go pick him up?”

“If you would, please. I imagine he looks like a vagabond.”

“Me n’ Clark will go pick him up and lend him our facilities.”

“Thank you.”

Clark stared with widened eyes as they said their goodbyes.

“Ya heard all that, didn’tcha, Clark?”

“Yes, Pa, I did. Bruce is alive?”

“Looks like, son. Unless someone called Alfred and gave ‘im some sorta false hopes, but I know they had some kind of code in place so it’d be pretty difficult for them ta fool each other.”

Clark got up and followed his Pa out. He stopped and glanced at Lana.

Pa noticed. “If ya need a lift, Miss. Lang, we’re heading into town.”

“Oh, thank you Mr. Kent. I’d appreciate it.”

Clark hopped into the back of the old pickup. He’d get back up front once Lana had been dropped off. He didn’t feel right sitting up front with her in there now that he’d learned about the  _ betrothal _ .

* * *

Bruce drew in a breath of fresh country air.  _ Kansas _ . A place of beauty, at least at its rural heart. The big cities of the state never drew his attention. Unless there might be some criminal punk that could harm the world. However he was but a man and thus, Gotham City, where he’d been born and grown was the place he needed to protect.

Soon, he’d be home, but not before a stop at the Kent Farm. The only place he’d truly felt any trace of happiness since that night in Crime Alley as he walked home from the theatre with his parents.

He’d not set foot in the country of his origins since the summer of his sixteenth year. He was now twenty-two. Six birthdays had gone by without celebration. Six difficult years that had in some ways gotten easier, but in other ways had grown more difficult due to decisions he’d had to make.

Now, however, after all that traveling, he was  _ ready _ . Ready to take on the criminals that walked the streets of Gotham. Whether they skulked in the dark, or not.

Yet it had been to Smallville, Kansas he’d been drawn. He’d stay there just a short while and then be off again, finally back  _ home _ .

He stared down the street and watched as a familiar old red truck made its way into town. Where it stopped beside him.

How had Jonathan Kent known?

The man got out of the truck. And so did a young man. He blinked. If that was Clark, he’d certainly grown. Under that plaid shirt it was easy to tell he was muscular. A bit on the gangly side, like most teenagers, but he still wasn’t  _ rail _ thin either.

_ My betrothed. Too young yet, but his  _ beauty _ still shines through. _

He lifted an arm and waved. “Hello Mr. Kent.”

Jonathan quirked a brow. “You can call me Jonathan, Bruce.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Alfred mentioned you might look like a vagabond. He wasn’t wrong.”

Clark walked over and stared at him. Only a few inches short of eye level.

Bruce wondered if Clark and he would be the same height, or if the younger man might even grow taller than himself. He wasn’t sure he liked the thought. Few matched, or outmatched him height-wise.

“Hello, Bruce,” Clark held out his hand.

Bruce took his hand and smiled. “Hello, Clark. You’ve grown  _ a lot _ since last time.”

“As have you,” he shook his hand only for a few moments before letting go. “You can ride in front with us. There should be just enough room.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Jonathan tossed Bruce’s bags into the back. Bruce made sure he didn’t toss anything that had breakables in it and then slid into the passenger side of the car, hip up against Clark’s.

“I think you might appreciate a shower, or a bath, wouldn’t you, Bruce?” Clark turned his head to inquire.

He chuckled. “That would be nice.” It had been a rare treat. Sometimes it was only cold water in unfortunate rooms, or a waterfall, or lake. No hot, or even warm running water in many places he’d been.

Once at the farm, Clark and Jonathan carried his bags into the house and Martha, despite how much dirt and grime clung to Bruce, hugged him close.

“You’ve been such a bad boy, running away like that. I’m just glad you’re okay! Now, let’s get you a shower for cleaning you up and a bath to soak in.”

He blinked. It had been so long since anyone had hugged him, or even thought of his comfort. It was…  _ nice _ . Not something he could afford to get too used to. Not when he had a mission. “Thank you…”

She patted him on the arm. “Alfred is on his way.”

“Good. I’ve… missed him.”

“You wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t run off.”

He ducked his head. “I know.” He could tell Alfred everything, but anyone else… he couldn’t risk it.

Once alone in the bathroom, undressed and behind the curtains of the shower, he sighed.

His eyes widened at the knock on the door.

“If you need help, let me know, Bruce.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine, Clark. Thank you.” He couldn’t have him in there. Even to wash his back. His betrothed was too young no matter that he was his intended. Didn’t matter if he’d get a reaction or not, it was…  _ inappropriate _ .

“Okay. Still, holler if you need anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

Later that day, once he was out of the shower, changed into clean clothes and dried he waited outside. He grinned and then schooled his features as Alfred stepped off of the private jet.

He stood stock still as the man who’d raised him stepped toward him. Each step seemed to bring him closer faster.

Bruce worried that Alfred might just lift his hand and punch him.

“Master Wayne!” Alfred frowned at him. “What you did was uncalled for.”

He ducked his head. “I know.”

Alfred sighed and reached out to tug him into a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re  _ alive _ .”

He blinked, as the hug was over in a heartbeat. 

Clark and the teenagers parents had been watching. Each of them with their own form of a smile.

“I’m sorry, Alfred. I have my reasons, but… we’ll discuss them once we’re back in Gotham. For now, you wouldn’t mind staying a couple of days here, would you?”

“I have never passed up an opportunity to visit the Kents.”

“Good. They’ve already said we could stay a spell.” He just wished he knew why Clark Joseph Kent kept staring at him so intently. That blue eyed gaze of his was quite… unnerving. At least the teenager hadn’t suggested anything else that could be taken the wrong way.

Alfred nodded and turned to greet the Kent’s.

Bruce followed Alfred, Martha and Jonathan into the house while Clark trailed at his side.

“I  _ know _ , Bruce.”

He turned to stare at him just outside the door of the Kent’s main house. “What?”

“About the  _ contract _ .”

“You… do?” His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his chest. At least he didn’t know what he’d been doing out of country, or his plans once he set foot back in Gotham City. This however… he hadn’t thought he’d be told so young.

“Yes.”

“I… I see. Well… we don’t have to think about it  _ yet _ . You’re young. It’s not like we can do anything. The legalities of it all. You should… sow your wild oats.” Not that he liked the idea of anyone touching Clark, but with their age difference, Clark was as yet too young for him. And he, during his training, had had to learn the art of seduction to garner information. It wasn’t like he’d waited - though he’d never once touched another man. Not because he wasn’t attracted to them too, but because of his betrothal.

“I don’t think I can. It feels dishonest to lead someone on, knowing about  _ that _ .”

“Then pick those who… who well… know it’s just a fling.”

Clark sighed and turned away. “Maybe…”

Bruce hoped he didn’t, but he wouldn’t be selfish. Not where it concerned his intended. Not only was there the legalities to think of, but he had his mission. Hadn’t even yet begun what he’d set out to train for. Perhaps when they were both a bit older and a bit wiser… if his mission didn’t get in the way as that came first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Before I didn't have Clark's POV due to his age... but now that he's a bit older here was a peak. I believe Clark is fourteen years old here and that Bruce is twenty-two years old.


	11. Preoccupied

Clark glanced at the clock hanging on the wall beside his bed as seconds tick-tocked on by. He knew today that Bruce would be visiting again. It had been exactly one year to the day since the man had visited the Kent Farm. It was also around a year since… he’d learned of their betrothal.

He recalled what the older male had told him. And he’d thought about it. He had. Clark had tried. With Lana. But the most they’d gotten to was hand holding. When she’d tried to kiss him he’d turned his head and her lips pressed against his cheek instead of against his mouth.

Clark worried he’d hurt her and apologized. But she’d just sighed and gave him a warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Clark.” 

He was sure he’d hurt her. Somehow. Yet she hadn’t seemed too upset by his inability to engage physically with her as other teenagers of their age might do and perhaps had already done.

There was little he could do, because every time, and it took no more than three for her to shake her head.

“Clark, I think… maybe you’re not all that into me.”

He’d blinked. “I’m… sorry…”

“I remember you used to look at me. Like  _ really _ look at me. And then just as we started dating you began to drift away. Could you at least tell me why?”

He’d been afraid to tell her as his fingers trembled. Trembling wasn’t something he often did. It wasn’t like he ever felt the cold. Not like there was anything he feared, really. Other than heights. Or becoming a lab experiment. But they weren’t high up or in a laboratory. But there and then he realized he did fear something. Maybe it had to do with where he grew up. Smallville, Kansas.

Closing his eyes he breathed in and slowly exhaled. He opened his eyes and gazed at Lana and explained despite the dread running rampant through him. “I think… I like someone else.”

She frowned. “Who? And if you did all this time, why wait until now?”

“Uh…” he couldn’t think of how to explain without hurting her feelings. Didn’t know if he wanted to tell her the entire truth, but he couldn’t outright lie to her. “He’s an older guy.”

Her eyes widened and she blinked several times in rapid succession. Then she grabbed her hands in his. “I had no idea you were gay, Clark.”

He shook his head. “I dun think that’s the correct terminology,” he sighed. After all he  _ had _ had an interest in Lana Lang. Once. For awhile.

“Bisexual then, or whatever sexuality you have, which is clearly not heterosexual. So, have I been a beard this entire time?”

Clark shook his head. “No! I just… I  _ was _ interested in ya, but then… and he’s nine years older… so…”

Her eyes grew wide again as she gasped and held his hands tight in hers. “ _ No. _ It couldn’t be… is it  _ Bruce?” _

He could feel his face warming.

“It  _ is! _ Oh, Clark, how long have you been interested in him?”

“Sometime starting last summer. ‘cept I didn’t realize it when we started dating… but lately…”

“You can’t stop thinking about him, because he’ll be here soon?”

He nodded.

“Next week?”

“Yeah. I’m… I’m sorry, Lana.”

She reached up a hand to ruffle his hair. “Don’t be. Although I don’t think you can date someone that much older than you. Not until you’re eighteen.” She shook her head and sighed.

“Yeah. He was worried about the legalities even though…”

She blinked. “Even though?”

He knew she already knew what he was. And she’d keep his secret safe. “My… biological parents betrothed me to him and his late parents agreed.”

“Whoa. In this day and age?” She shook her head. “Well, unless your parents let you get married, there’s nothing you can do but wait until you’re eighteen.”

“I doubt they’d let me get married at fifteen. I’ve still got to go to school. And… I don’t think Bruce would agree anyway.” Maybe if Bruce were only a year or two older instead of nine years older. Of course their upbringing was quite different. He was the son of farmers and Bruce the son of billionaires who kept their companies going. Although the papers had been claiming some pretty damaning things.

Lana giggled.

He quirked a brow. “What?”

“Are you going to wait up to three more years for your first kiss?”

“You trying to talk me into kissing you?”

“No. I mean I would have liked to. Before. But now that I know the truth…”

And that was how things had ended with Lana. They were still friends. Maybe had they done more than hand holding things would have been more fraught. 

He did wonder how long he’d be waiting for a first kiss. Since he’d learned of their betrothal after Bruce had left the previous summer he’d been looking up the legalities. In Kansas he’d be able to kiss Bruce next summer when he was sixteen years-old and Bruce was twenty-five years-old. Except Bruce lived in a state where the age of consent, even for kissing was eighteen and not sixteen. It made him wonder if Bruce would get into trouble in his state if he kissed Clark in Smallville, Kansas next summer. Although he’d have liked to be able to kiss him when he arrived.

When he heard the hum of a jet engine he stood up and hurried outside to wait for the man’s arrival. Sure he hadn’t said what time he’d be, but he could hear the jet so far away.

Underneath the sun he lay upon the fresh cut grass he’d taken care of early that morning and watched the clouds drift on by.

* * *

Bruce blinked when he saw the young man splayed out in the sunlight. At least he was wearing clothes both jeans and a t-shirt. However the teenager was barefoot and staring in his direction with those beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that were difficult to not stare into.

Giving himself a shake he smiled as he stepped down and tried  _ not _ to limp. Not in front of Clark. It was best he didn’t know… that he didn’t suspect what he’d been up to. The past year had shown him just how dangerous the streets of Gotham were. They were just as mad, if not more so than he’d originally thought since the day he’d lost his parents to street crime.

That was not a world he wanted Clark to think about. Not a world he wanted him to get involved with even if… even if it would be nice to have him at the manor.

When Clark sat up he walked over to him while Alfred got their bags out for the week to take to the main house just as Jonathan and Martha both exited the building.

Clark stood up and met him halfway.

He startled Bruce by wrapping his arms around him and settling his chin on Bruce’s shoulder.

To him, Clark smelled like the fresh country air and Martha Kent’s down home cooking.

“I’ve missed you, Bruce,” Clark whispered against his ear.

He had to refrain from moving, or responding in any untoward way. Clark was no socialite to be used as a prop that helped him in his mission by using a cover to stay hidden. Props which sometimes helped him to forget about the farm boy who was his betrothed.

Lightly patting Clark’s back he smiled. “I missed you too, Clark.”

They took a step back at the same time.

Clark glanced around them and sighed when they saw that the three guardians had headed inside.

“Bruce… I couldn’t do it.”

His brows furrowed as he stared into the worried gaze of Clark Joseph Kent.

“Well… I dated Lana Langa for seven months…”

He would not allow himself to feel envious of the young lady. The betrothal contract… if Clark no longer wanted it, he’d honor whatever the young man preferred.

“We held hands.”

He nodded.

“And when she went to kiss me…”

Bruce hated how he was dragging it out. He didn’t want to think about those soft looking lips touching someone else’s… someone who wasn’t him. But nor could he kiss Clark. It just wouldn’t be right. He was too young. It didn’t matter that he was a year older. 

“But I kept turning my head away. I just…  _ couldn’t _ do anything.”

“Have you tried dating someone else?” He didn’t want to suggest it, or think of it, but as a reasonable adult it was what he had to ask.

Clark shook his head. “No. I can’t even  _ imagine _ dating anyone else. All’s I can think of. All I can see… is  _ you.” _

He stared wide-eyed at Clark. At a loss for words. Unusual for him as he tried to think of how to respond to that. If Clark were a couple years older, if he were about a decade younger himself… then there’d be nothing to hold him back.

“Dun worry none, Bruce. I know ya can’t do nothin’ even if ya wanted to. What with all the legalities.”

He nodded and with a chuckle he brushed his fingers through Clark’s soft dark hair.

“But, when I’m older and we dun have to worry ‘bout that, I want ya to give me my first kiss.”

He gulped and began walking toward the Kent family home. It was going to be a difficult week, especially if Clark kept saying things like  _ that _ . But he was Batman. He could handle anything. No matter how tempting he was not about to commit a crime. Just because they were betrothed did not mean it was the proper time to begin a dalliance.

_ It wouldn’t be  _ just _ a dalliance. _

At least, when Jonathan greeted them at the door he gave him something to do.

“Glad you’re here, Bruce. Think ya could help with the tractor and chores ‘round here?”

“Sure.” If it kept him from getting too close to Clark during his one week stay, all the better.

“Thanks,” Jonathan then turned to Clark, “Clark, go get us the canteens, fill ‘em with water and let’s get started on the rest of today’s chores.”

When Bruce saw Clark tug off his plaid shirt, he gulped. It appeared farm work helped to give him a rather fit and muscular figure. He had to pull his eyes off him and hoped he could ignore certain things during his stay. Maybe if he just thought of Alfred, of Martha and Jonathan, or even of all the criminals of Gotham he’d had to deal with in the past year he could get through his visit.

It was a good thing Jonathan Kent knew how to keep them busy with farm work and different animal husbandry. And as long as he had something to concentrate on he wasn’t constantly staring at Clark’s backside, chest, or anywhere on his person that he shouldn’t be looking at.

He was so preoccupied with trying not to stare at Clark, that he didn't notice the younger man never appeared to sweat, or that Clark every so often would pour water over himself to hide that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and I'd love to know what you think of it. Maybe what was your favorite part of this chapter, or the entire fic thus far?


	12. Protégé

Clark glanced at Ma as he stepped inside once he’d finished helping Pa with the morning chores. He saw her worrying her lower lip between her teeth and wringing her hands in her apron.

“Ma?”

She shifted on her feet to gaze at him head on. “Clark! I didn’t hear you come in.”

He blinked. “That’s unusual for ya, Ma. Is something the matter?”

With a sigh she lowered her head for just a moment before looking back into his eyes. “Bruce just called.”

“Did he say why he didn’t show up two weeks ago?”

“Yes. He did.”

“Did… did it have anything to do with a woman?” He didn’t want to think about it. They weren’t together. It shouldn’t bother him. It was there parents who’d arranged for them to be together after all. He’d not begrudge the man sowing his wild oats. Even though he hadn’t been able to do so himself. Not even with Lana Lang.   
  
“Oh honey, no. But ya shouldn’t be pining after a man so many years your senior. Not till you’ve seen some of the world.”

“Okay, but, did he say why he didn’t show up? Is he not gonna this year?”

“He’ll be here in the afternoon. But he won’t be alone.”

“Is he ever? Alfred always comes with him.”

“True, but it won’t be just Alfred.”

His brows furrowed. “Then it is a woman?”

“No, Clark. He’s bringing a child with him.”

Clark’s eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair. “When did he have a kid? Who's the mother?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “He’s adopting the boy, Clark.”

“Oh! By himself?”

“It’s not  _ that _ unusual, Clark.” She turned toward the stove and turned on whatever she’d turned off earlier as it was heading toward lunch time.

He went to the sink to wash up. “So… did he say anything else?”

“The boys name is Richard J. Grayson. His parents, the acrobats, died at the circus. Fell from great heights. Bruce doesn’t think it was an accident. Had to stop the kid from going after the one who did it with a gun.”

He turned off the tap and turned to stare at his mother's back. “How old is this kid?”

“He’s ten years old.”

Clark shook his head. “Poor kid. Did he…”

“Bruce stopped him, but the boy is distraught. He figured getting him out of Gotham to somewhere like Smallville would do him some good, if only for a week.”

He hated to think how the boy had lost his parents. How Bruce had lost his own. He knew nothing about his own biological parents other than that they weren’t of their world. Not after what Pa had shown him. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. Couldn’t imagine losing Ma and Pa to crime like Bruce and now the kid had lost theirs.

“Well, I guess we’re just going to have to give Richard J. Grayson a good time here.”

“And space. It’s all too new for him, Clark.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be his friend.”

She stirred the pot and turned to walk over to him. Placed a hand on his cheek and brushed back his hair. “You’re a good boy, Clark. Your kind heart makes me smile. I’m so proud of you.”

Just then he heard Pa step inside.

“As am I, son. Now let’s get the rooms ready for our guests. Good thing we made that addition last summer with Bruce’s and Alfred’s help.”

He nodded.

Martha waved a ladle at them. “No one is going anywhere until we’ve all washed up and had our lunch.”

“Yes, dear.” Pa said.

Clark grinned, “Of course, Ma.”

* * *

The next day the Wayne private jet landed on one of the Kent’s fallow fields as it had in summers prior. Instead of two passengers, this time it had three.

Clark watched as Alfred came down first with some luggage, followed by Bruce and then finally by the ten year old boy, Richard Grayson.

When Bruce’s gaze landed on him he smiled and lifted his hand to wave. Pa walked toward Alfred while he himself moved toward Bruce and the ten year old kid.

The boy looked up at him. If he didn’t know any better he’d think the kid looked enough like Bruce with his dark hair and blue eyes to be his biological child. But Clark, being adopted himself, knew that it didn’t matter what a parent or child looked like whether they were related or not. It was the heart that counted.

“Hi Alfred,” he said as he passed him and then spoke to Bruce. “Hello, Bruce.” He glanced down at the young boy. “Hi there.”

Bruce had one hand on Richard’s shoulder.

“Clark, this is Richard Grayson.”

“Everyone calls me Dick,” the kid said.

“It’s nice to meet ya, Dick,” he held out a hand and Dick took it. They shook hands, briefly.

“Dick, this is Clark Joseph Kent.”

Dick blinked and stared up at him. “Your fiance?” 

Clark’s eyes widened.

Bruce lifted a hand and coughed into it. “I haven’t proposed.”

Dick shrugged. “Whatever the term is.”

“How does he know about…”

Bruce sighed, “He’s a curious kid and got it out of Alfred. He wanted to know why Smallville, Kansas was so special.”

Clark grinned. “Smallville is a special place. But I’m biased since it’s my home.” It wasn’t where he’d been born, but he’d been raised here since infancy. “We’ve got a new litter of kittens this year, if ya’d like to see ‘em, Dick.”

Just then, Hank came barreling out of the house and barking with his tail wagging.

Dick blinked. “You’ve got a dog!?”

Clark chuckled. “Sure do. He’s a great dog, had him most of my life.” Which worried him considering how long dogs lived for. He glanced at Hank. “Easy boy. Sit.”

Hank sat down next to Clark with his tail still wagging.

“Does he bite?” Dick asked as he edged toward the dog.

“Never has. Long as you’re good folk. Just let him sniff your hand before ya pet him since he’s never met ya before.”

Dick grinned. “Thanks,” he said and held out his hand for Hank to sniff.

Bruce watched on with a smile.

* * *

Bruce knew this was the best place to take anyone who’d had a bad go of things. Losing one's parents, especially the way that they’d been lost was a difficult thing. It could utterly destroy a life. But he didn’t want Dick to do something he’d regret for the rest of his days and label him something that he didn’t need to be.

He’d help him bring his parents killer to justice like he hadn’t been able to for his own. They knew who had done so to the Flying Graysons, but he didn’t know whom it was that had taken the lives of his own parents.   
  
Clark hadn’t lost his parents, at least not the ones who’d raised him since he was too young to remember his biological parents. He had no idea what had happened to them, or why. So Clark was free of that agony. Untainted by Gotham crime and murder like at Haley’s Circus. Dick had not been so fortunate.

He leaned down and whispered to Dick once he’d backed away from Clark and Hank, “Clark’s like an angel. Kind, full of sunshine and hope.” But still too young for him to consider touching in any untoward way. He didn’t think the Kents would be too happy if he did more than hold Clark’s hand. But he could see the beauty of his eyes and just how gorgeous he’d be once filled out.

Dick blinked and grinned. “It’s nice if you have an angel in your life.”

It was then that Bruce noticed the red of Clark’s ears as he turned to lead them toward the barn.

“I’ve got a gift for ya, Bruce. Pa said ya might not want it, but I couldn’t  _ not _ get them for ya.”

He arched a brow. “And what gift might this be, Clark?”

Dick followed on their heels.

Clark opened the barn door and a puppy of about twelve weeks came barreling out of the barn. A german shepherd with a wiggling tail.

They watched as Hank nudged the pup and wagged his tail.

Dick gasped. “He’s cute!” He picked the puppy up in his arms.

Clark chuckled.

Bruce shook his head. “Guess I can’t say no when you’re both looking at me like that. Does he have a name?”

Dick grinned. “You’re keeping him, Bruce?”

“He’ll need training. I think Alfred’s trained dogs in the service before.”

“I hope he won’t be upset…” Clark winced at the idea of angering the british butler.

“I’m sure it will be fine, Clark.”

Clark smiled and glanced at Bruce and Dick. He wasn’t old enough to be the boys father, but Bruce if he’d had him when he was fifteen might be. “Well, the Shepherd’s mother was called Aella and the father Cerebus Enigma.”

Dick nodded. “A.C.E.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. “Ace then?”

Dick nodded.

Clark smiled. “That’s a great name.”

Dick sat down on his knees when the kittens started coming out from behind the bales of hay.

Bruce’s arm brushed Clark’s. “Thank you,” he whispered to him. “I haven’t seen him smile since he lost his parents.”

Clark glanced up at him. He’d gained another inch or so on him, but Bruce himself was still taller. “I’m just glad he could smile.”

“This was the only place I was ever able to smile after I lost my own. There’s just something about this place…”

“Yeah,” Clark murmured and tilted his head back.

Bruce stared down at Clark’s mouth. Felt himself lowering his head. Instead he turned to press a kiss against Clark’s cheek. There were things he couldn’t do. Not while Clark wasn’t considered legal age. Even a kiss could be dangerous.

Clark himself pressed a kiss to Bruce’s cheek before stepping back.

They stared wide eyed at Dick.

Dick blinked. “How come you’re not being  _ more _ mushy?”

Alfred had returned outside and walked up behind the three of them. “Because it is improper. Master Bruce could get into trouble with the law as Master Clark is still a minor.”

Dick frowned. “Oh. Is that why Clark doesn’t live with Bruce?”

Bruce saw Clark’s face turn red and the teenager ducked his head.

Alfred raised his brows marginally. “Master Clark is still in school. He lives with his parents as well he should. When he is of age by legal standards, he and Master Bruce can decide for themselves how they want things to go between them.”

Bruce nodded.

Clark smiled ruefully.

“Now, sirs, the lovely lady, Martha Kent has tea and biscuits ready for us. If you do not prefer tea, she has also made homemade lemonade.”

Bruce placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder and another on Clark’s. “Let’s go inside then. By the way Alfred, we’re taking the puppy home with us.”

“A puppy?” Alfred stared down at the German shepherd puppy that was playing with the kittens.

“He was a gift from Clark.”

“Ah. Very well, sir. He will be well trained and house broken.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce smiled and walked to the Kent’s main-house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I believe Bruce is 25 years old here and that Clark is 16 years old. What was your favorite part about this chapter?


	13. Pang

Bruce stared down at his protege who had followed him down to the cave despite not being fit for field operations. He’d grown some in the past year and had proven a valuable teammate. Except he had recently broken his arm and he  _ hated _ that the boy had gotten hurt.

“Perhaps it would be best, Dick, if you didn’t go on anymore missions.” They’d taken care of Tony Zucco who was currently in prison.

Dick frowned. “That’s not fair, Bruce.  _ You _ get injuries all the time and you still go out.”

“Dick, you’re a  _ child _ .” But he did know, without a doubt, that Dick would still insist on going out with or without his permission. He’d prefer he not, but it was somewhat difficult to stop him from being Robin without someone finding out he was Batman if he were to involve someone on the police force.

“I’m  _ eleven _ .”

Bruce sighed and frowned at him. “An adolescent is still technically a child and you are not yet even a teenager. I would rather you  _ didn’t _ get hurt.”

“Come on  _ Bruce _ . This is  _ my _ choice. What were  _ you _ doing when you were my age?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath which he then exhaled before lowering his hand and reopening his eyes. “I was  _ training _ . I wasn’t yet out on the streets.”

“I’ve been on the streets more than a year with you! This is just  _ one _ incident.”

Alfred stepped in at that moment with a tray of cookies with two glasses of milk. “If I may, Master Bruce, Master Richard…”

They both turned to look at the stately and stoic older man.

“Perhaps a compromise is in order, sirs. I know only too well how difficult it is to keep a youth from doing as they please, Master Wayne. I would prefer that Master Richard not go searching the far corners of the Earth, sir.” He placed the tray down on a table and then turned around.

Dick’s eyes widened and then he lifted his uninjured arm to place his hand over his mouth as the corners began to curl upward.

Bruce blinked at Alfred. He had not thought of that. Some might claim Batman to be the world’s greatest detective, but he couldn’t help but think that Alfred was  _ better _ . And the man  _ did _ have training before becoming a butler to the Wayne family.

“What do you suggest, Alfred?”

Alfred’s brows raised. “Do my ears deceive me? The great Batman asking for this lowly servant’s suggestion on how to compromise with Robin…, sir?”

Bruce frowned. Sometimes Alfred could… he cut off the thought and said, “Do you have a suggestion, or don’t you, Alfred?”

Dick watched with wide eyes that shined with mirth.

Alfred raised a brow and then lowered it a moment later. “Master Richard needs time to heal. After his arm has healed then he should wait until  _ after  _ six weeks of physical therapy before he even starts to train again.  _ Then _ we both review him and see if he is fit to go out on missions again, sir.”

Dick had grinned and then his grin slowly faded. “How long will all of that take?”

“As long as it needs to, Master Richard.”

Bruce placed his chin on his knuckles while holding his elbow in his free hand as he contemplated. He knew this was something Alfred would have preferred him to do whenever he got injured himself. But again, Dick was his protege and he had quickly come to think of him as a son. He’d adopted him after all. He cared and wanted him to be safe. Alfred had made a good suggestion.

He nodded. “Very well.” He glanced from Alfred to Dick. “Dick, I think Alfred’s suggestion is what we’ll follow in regards to this. You’ll be able to go back on missions.  _ Eventually _ . It should take less than a year unless there are complications.”

“But…,” Dick began. However he closed his mouth when both Alfred and Bruce stared at him with their scolding glances that brooked no argument.

“If you can’t agree to this Dick I don’t think you’ll be able to continue as Robin.”

Dick frowned. “That’s harsh, Bruce.”

“I am only thinking of _your_ _safety_. Gotham is dangerous. We’ve both encountered this many times. Now you’re hurt. If you cannot listen to me, then listen to Alfred.”

“If only you would listen to your own advice, sir,” Alfred interjected.

Dick tried his best not to chuckle. His shoulders slumped. “Okay, Bruce, Alfred, I’ll go along with this plan. Recovery followed by physical therapy and then training to get back on top of things.”

Alfred nodded. “Very good, Master Richard.”

Bruce nodded and reached out to ruffle Dick’s hair. “Now, let’s go get ready for our flight.”

Dick blinked. “What flight?” His eyes rounded. “Are we going to Kansas!?”

Alfred managed to keep his mouth from curling into a smile.

One corner of Bruce’s mouth quirked. “Yes.”

Dick’s smile, Bruce thought, could melt the heart of any and all who saw it.

Bruce watched Dick make his way upstairs to his room to grab anything extra for the flight as he knew Alfred had already started packing for them all.

* * *

Clark cocked his head and grinned. “I can hear the jet Ma, Pa! It’s close.” He stared out the window of the car distracted from the argument he’d been having with Pa. Because  _ Bruce _ would be there soon. Alfred and Dick too.

He wished he were already eighteen, but that was another year away. Something he didn’t think he’d make.

His eyes rounded however when he turned his head and behind them a twister was headed their way. “Pa… Ma…”

They both looked back.

Martha Kent placed a hand over her mouth as she gasped. “Oh Jonathan!”

Jonathan grimaced. He parked their car because of how traffic was stopped. The man ushered Clark and Martha out of the car and away from the direction the twister headed.

Martha glanced around. “Where’s Hank?”

Clark watched his father go to the car, his eyes wide. His mother had one hand wrapped around him and the other over her mouth.

Hank got free and ran to them, but the man who’d taken him in when he’d been an infant and kept him through the years despite his abnormalities didn’t run. He was hurt.

Jon shook his head and held up his hand. 

Clark yelled, “PA!” As his Ma held him back. Not that she could if he tried to rush forward, but he was afraid. And Pa didn’t want him to. The man was sacrificing himself to protect him. Even after what he’d last said to him.

And then, miraculously there was something that wrapped around Jonathan Kent’s waist and the man was lifted into the air and flown in an arc away from the oncoming twister.

Martha and Clark both shook even as Jonathan was placed down on the ground near them.

His Ma fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around Jonathan. Clark knelt too and cried against his father’s shoulder. “I’m… I’m sorry, Pa. I-I love you and Ma…”

Jonathan hugged Martha and Clark close and pressed a kiss to his wife’s head and his cheek to Clark’s. “It’s okay, Clark. I know. You’re just like any teenager. And someday… your Ma and I won’t be able to tell ya what to do, but until that time comes ya should respect us and our choices for ya a bit more.”

Clark nodded even as he sniffled.

Not far away, but out of the reach of the twisters vortex a jet landed.

The Kent family turned to stare as did those who weren’t still staring at the wake of destruction left in the twister’s path. From which they’d need to run if it suddenly changed its course.

Clark stood up and ran to Bruce who caught him in his embrace. Clark knew he’d grown just a little more since they’d last met. The older man would possibly be just a few inches taller than himself if he’d stopped growing himself.

Bruce seemed shaken and pale.

“Th-thank you for saving my Pa, Bruce.”

Bruce hugged him close and brushed his lips across his forehead and whispered. “You’ll have to thank Alfred.”

“Where is he?”

“In the jet comforting Dick.”

“Oh…”

Jonathan and Martha walked up to them with Hank barking at their heels.

Alfred led Dick out of the jet then and they joined with Bruce and the Kent family even as the twister disappeared on the horizon and ambulances came bustling toward them.

Clark loved Smallville, Kansas. Except for it’s natural phenomenon that could have so easily taken his Pa’s life. It had certainly taken many cars with it for which people had to dodge if they hadn’t gotten far enough away from the trajectory.

He heard Dick whispering to Alfred, “I’m glad Clark and his family are okay.”

Alfred nodded. “As am I, Master Richard.”

“I don’t think Bruce could have taken losing Clark, or Clark’s parents.”

Alfred smiled. “Very perceptive, sir.”

“I wish you’d just call me Dick,” he grumbled.

Clark turned his attention back to Bruce and then felt his face heating up as he realized he’d been resting his head against Bruce’s shoulder for quite some time. That no one had yet to comment on it surprised him. With some reluctance, he stepped away.

Bruce smiled at him. “I”m glad you and your family are all okay, but perhaps we should get your father to a doctor?”

Clark nodded. “Of course!”

Jonathan frowned. “We should stick around to find out if anyone was caught inside the Twister.”

Martha rubbed her husband's shoulder. “We can do that later,  _ after _ you’ve been seen by a doctor.”

Once Jonathan saw that they all agreed with his wife, he sighed.

Clark helped his Pa up and to one of the ambulances that had appeared on the scene. Their car had been whisked away and mangled - which could have so easily been Jonathan Kent too.

“Only one of you can ride with him,” one of the EMT’s pointed out.

Clark let them take his Pa and watched his Ma get into the back of the ambulance with him.

Bruce took his hand in his and stroked the pad of his thumb against Clark’s palm.

Clark turned to him and smiled. “I… I think they’ll be okay.”

“I believe so. We can give you a lift back to the farm, if you’d like?”

He nodded. “Yes, please. Don’t forget Hank”

Bruce led him to the jet and escorted him inside. Dick followed behind them while guiding Hank and Alfred took up the rear to shut the door and take over as pilot.

Emotionally drained, Clark’s eyes drooped and his body leaned until his head fell onto Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce turned his head a little and smiled at Clark.

* * *

Dick picked up his cell and took a snapshot of the scene. Although he’d been shaken by the event, he wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to take a rare picture of a  _ genuine _ smile that his mentor doled out on rather few occasions. Plus, he figured Alfred would  _ love _ the momento.

Then he blinked at Bruce’s comment.

“I think you should stay with the Kent’s the rest of the summer, Dick, if the Kent’s will allow it. So you can relax while healing with Jonathan.”

Clark woke up at that and added, “Ma and Pa would be glad to have ya Dick. I’m just worried about how we’re gonna be come harvest time. At least it’s summer so I can help Pa with all the chores.”

Dick watched as Bruce brushed his fingers through Clark’s hair. It was difficult to see Bruce as a father even if he felt like one  _ sometimes _ due to only being only a little over a decade apart. Not that it was impossible for someone to have been a father at the age Bruce would have been when Dick himself was conceived. However, Clark was only about four years older than himself. But he was a good person and a good friend. And if he made Bruce smile all the better.

Bruce had grown quiet before answering Clark. “I’ll hire a couple of hands to help you.”

Clark’s eyes widened. “Th-that won’t be necessary, Bruce. Pa… doesn’t really trust strangers. It’d be better not to…”

“Then I’ll help. This week and the week after next.”

“I can’t ask ya to do that, Bruce.”

Bruce cupped Clark’s cheeks in his hands so that Clark couldn’t do anything but stare up at him.

“You’re not asking, Clark. I’m offering and you can’t stop me from helping my friends.”

Dick believed the pair of them, Bruce and Clark to be more than friends. Would they  _ ever _ say it though, he wondered? Maybe next year once Clark was legal. He’d noticed last year and even on the jet that Bruce’s hands never strayed to inappropriate places. Nor did he kiss Clark on the lips or the neck. Everything appeared to be so… so  _ platonic _ . Except the way they both gazed at each other. He’d asked Alfred about it last year after they’d arrived back at the Manor and Alfred had mentioned it had been a recent development, that feelings had blossomed beyond friendship. 

Alfred landed the jet himself, and opened the door for the stairs that led down to the ground on the Kent Farm in Smallville Kansas.

Dick watched as Bruce and Clark walked down, shoulder to shoulder. He wondered how Clark had gotten so muscular, but then he was a farm boy, but it still amazed him that he seemed nearly as, if not possibly more buff than Batman himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Any part in particular you enjoyed?
> 
> I am sorry it took a little longer than I thought to get this latest chapter written, but my mind has been preoccupied with what's going on in the world. I hope you're all keeping safe and I'm praying that you all keep well, or recover. I'm not sure what else I can do.
> 
> One of my family members has pointed out that it seems every time a new kind of cell #G Tower is put up that some sort of disease shows up due to the radiation maybe from those cell towers (radiation could have mutated the non aggressive form? Speculation here, but possible?). I heard the 5G cell towers may be killing off birds and if its killing off birds is it causing cancer, or going to (I haven't seen bluejays in a long time, but I have seen other birds)? Did the 4G, 3G, 2G, etc coincide with bad effects and did diseases and stuff go up after their installation? This could be speculation of course, but it does deserve to be looked into (investigated). Seriously, people like Lex Luthor (for one example of corrupt business men and/or those who want to be worshiped/in power) exist in real life and care only about money and not peoples health. And the same family member also showed me a disturbing article about losing our privacy and our rights via technology. It made me think of stories that had AI's that killed people for not helping them come into existence or something. 
> 
> Stay safe! So far, so good here, but the coronavirus is within a couple miles of my location. We just have to wait this out until it manages to go away on its own (unlikely) or we get a vaccine (which will take quite some time, but hopefully sooner rather than later without side effects that make it worse than the virus itself). My 88 year old grandpa lives with us but he's not the only vulnerable one in the house. 
> 
> At least there's reading (and writing) while stuck at home for most of the time until its safer out there. 
> 
> Take care!


	14. Proposal

Alfred Pennyworth walked down the long wide hallway to his employer's room. Lifted his hand to knock on the door.

"Come in, Alfred."

He pushed open the door and carried the tray in of eggs, a single slice of whole wheat toast, and a cup of coffee - they were out of tea.

"Good morning, Master Bruce. You are up early today."

Bruce nodded and sat down at the table in one corner of the room and took his breakfast. One of the rare occasions he found the time to eat.

"Master Richard will be back from school early today."

Bruce took a sip of his coffee and blinked. "It's the last day, he'll have all summer to enjoy."

"The lad needs more friends, Master Bruce. One's that can_ visit_."

"I can't risk them finding out, Alfred."

"Yet Master Richard is good at keeping secrets, sir. He would not divulge even to you what he experienced last summer on the Kent Farm, Master Bruce."

Bruce wondered what Dick had learned. He didn't like secrets being kept from him, but he'd managed to refrain from prying too much, and when he had asked too many questions, Dick had just shook his head and didn't answer.

Dick would be turning fourteen before the year was out. Clark had already turned eighteen during the school year._ Eighteen_.

"Clark is graduating this year."

"Indeed, sir. Will we be visiting?"

He nodded and took a bite of his toast. A forkful of egg. Patted a cloth napkin over his mouth and at the corners.

"Once Dick has returned, we shall leave for the Kent Farm, if we're all packed."

"I shall get right on that, sir."

Bruce had a feeling Alfred already had his own luggage packed. "Thank you, Alfred."

"If that will be all, Master Bruce?"

He nodded and took another sip of his coffee. "For now, Alfred."

"Very good, sir," Alfred said and turned on his heel to leave the room. Bruce imagined he was going to get Dick's bags packed before he returned with luggage to fill with Bruce's things.

His mind drifted to Kansas and the town of Smallville. Under the Kansas sky where rows of corn grew tall, sunflowers bloomed in droves, and fresh baked pie wafting on the wind.

Bruce knew Clark was no considered old enough to consent having turned eighteen years of age. But Bruce was still nine years his senior and he had a mission in Gotham that he didn't want the young man to have to deal with. Smallville and Gotham were_ very_ different from one another. Yet he couldn't help but think of Clark there at the Manor, with him.

He didn't realize an hour had passed after he'd finished his meal, that he'd allowed himself the time to fantasize about showing Clark Wayne Manor and telling him it's history and then acting as tour guide to the city he cared for. Not until Alfred returned to the room carrying a box on a royal blue pillow.

Bruce stood up and asked, "Alfred? What is that?"

"This, Master Bruce, is the Wayne family engagement ring."

"My mother wasn't buried with it?"

"No, sir. She was buried with her wedding ring, but this is an heirloom. It may be too small for your young man, but it can always be adjusted, sir."

"Alfred, Clark is still so young. How could I even ask him?"

"Are you two not already betrothed, Master Bruce?" His brows raised infinitesimal for all of three seconds before smoothing out once more. 

"He's still_ young_ Alfred. He's only just about to graduate from high school!"

Alfred nodded, "Indeed, sir. However an engagement ring does not necessitate an immediate marriage, Master Bruce."

"Don't you think I'm too old for him and that he should find someone else his own age?"

"Master Bruce, there are those who have wed both in the past and the present with a far greater age gap than the two of you share. While not all of them had feelings for one another, there are those who did, sir. Do not let your fears stand in the way of your happiness."

"I don't want to stand in the way of Clark's." Maybe it was an excuse. He wasn't ready to settle down, but he found the thought of Clark with anyone else distasteful, like ashes on the tongue.

"That should be his decision, sir. Think of the engagement ring as a promise ring, if you must, Master Bruce."

He lifted a hand toward the box, which Alfred opened. Inside was a 14-karat ring with a single diamond in the center - neither too small, nor too large to be ridiculously gaudy. Off to either side of it was a smaller blue gemstone. He imagined sapphire, or possibly blue diamond. Gems which made him think of those blue, blue eyes that had captivated him more and more.

"I should... probably get his parents blessing first."

"Admirable, Master Bruce. I shall pack this along with your week long bags and place them in the jet."

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Think nothing of it, sir."

* * *

  
Clark grinned as he floated down onto a bale of hay in the barn's loft. It had been the last day of school and he'd opened a number of acceptance letters. One to Kansas City University, Smallville Community College, Princeton, Yale, Brown, Metropolis University, and Gotham University. He'd been accepted by_ all_ of them. He wondered which of them he should choose. Some were closer to home, some father, and two of them close to Bruce Wayne's address - one more than the other.

He just had to attend the graduation ceremony next month. Not that he needed to since he'd still get his diploma in either case, but his Ma and Pa wanted to record him walking up to receive it. He wouldn't deny them_ that_.

Clark just had to figure out which of the colleges he'd be attending in the fall, before the month was out so he could get into classes before all of them were filled to capacity.

Closing his eyes, he sighed as he allowed himself to drift among his thoughts. Last summer his friend Dick had teased him about his_ feelings_ for Bruce. And the younger boy had nearly caught him a few times using his powers. He didn't know how much Dick knew versus how much he suspected. Clark couldn't have him guessing his secrets, or even Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to tell him. Ma and Pa were worried about it. He'd heard them wondering aloud when he hadn't meant to eavesdrop - but he couldn't_ always_ tune out all the sounds that his super hearing picked up - about what would happen if he_ did_ marry Bruce.

Clark wondered if he could keep it a secret from him. If he'd have to. Would Bruce Wayne even_ want_ to marry him? It wasn't like he hadn't heard about his many exploit's with the women who were a part of the upper crust of Gotham, or the lady's who visited Gotham from out of country. But he'd been a child and he and Bruce hadn't been courting. Would it change at all, now that he was_ legal_? Or had Bruce just been humoring him?

He turned onto his stomach, opened his eyes and stared at the wooden floor of the hayloft.

An idea came to him and he stood up, hurried down the ladder and out the door. Once inside he opened the linen closet. Pulled out two king size sheet, five white comforter, seven white pillow cases and took them to the hayloft where he stacked up bale upon bale. He stretched the king size fitted sheet from one side to the other. The second king sized sheet he let hang down in the back. Placed the comforters down on the woodened floor of the loft. Then he went inside to find pillows. One was a long body pillow that he placed at the back of his fort in the hay loft, with three king size pillows lined up on either side. Using more hay bales he placed them so that they led a little pathway to the fort where one had to get on hands and knees to get inside of. One could sit up in it, but they couldn't stand.

Then, he found fairy lights to pin to the sheets and bales of hay so that there was light. Finally, he brought in snacks that he placed in one corner, and a few drinks in ice in another once he heard the jet approaching. A sound he'd long associated with Bruce Wayne's visit to the farm.

It was wishful thinking, of course, but all through the last year at school he'd been hoping and dreaming that Bruce would at least kiss him full on the mouth.

Not even when he'd taken him to his senior prom, had he done more than caress his cheek in his palm. He'd already been eighteen then. But he_ had_ seen the looks cast their way. The narrowed eyes of the teachers and other parents. And then he'd had to deal with their questions asked of his own parents and himself.

"He has_ never_ touched me inappropriately. I only see him for a week out of the year." He'd had to explain to them. Bruce wasn't what they thought. In fact, most of the time, the man kept a wide berth between them. Once or thrice he'd kissed his palm, his forehead, or his cheek. Kept his hands to himself even when Clark longed to be touched by him in the ways the books he'd found and read had described.

"I_ am_ eighteen years old now. He won't even kiss me the way I want, because I'm still in high school, just for a few more months."

None of them had understood that Bruce wasn't taking advantage of him. Had insisted he date other people so as not to miss out. Clark had not been able to. He'd tried once with Lana Lang whom at one time he'd had a crush on.

His betrothed was not a predator. Their biological parents had decided on their future relationship.

And then he'd been subjected to test kits that he didn't need to ensure that he hadn't been taken advantage of. Which had embarrassed him, his parents, and those under the roof of Wayne Manor.

Clark knew that if his Pa, Jonathan Kent, had suspected anything untoward he would have gotten his shotgun out long ego to point at Bruce despite them being betrothed.

His prom, because of that, had been part disaster, but the other part had felt magical as if a fairy tale. They'd even had their picture taken which he'd kept and framed and placed beside each picture of him standing next to or sitting next to Bruce through all the summers that they'd shared. And next to those were the two of them with Dick Grayson standing in the middle with the biggest grin.

Hurrying to the field he thought the jet would land in, he saw his Ma and Pa walking toward the same area with Hank. He didn't think the dog had many more years. He'd aged as all things do. A life too short compared to a humans, but long lived by dog standards.

He blinked when Alfred and Dick came down and stood to either side of the steps.

Beside him, Ma gripped Pa's arm with one hand while holding the fingertips of her other against her lips.

Bruce carried a large bouquet of flowers and knelt down in front of Clark and held them up to him with a smile. A smile that had the past few summers made him feel weak in his invulnerable knees.

Clark took the bouquet and wished he'd known, or had at least thought of gathering wild flowers to offer to Bruce._ Another time_. Neither of them were women, but he believed men liked to receive flowers just as much - if they came from someone they cared about.

His eyes widened as the man pulled something from a back pocket. A little black velvet box that he dare not use his X-ray vision on. But he could guess by its shape and size what was in it. But only when Bruce opened it was he sure of his assumptions.

"Clark, you are a light in the dark of my life, and I hope you'll do me the honor of one day being my spouse and take my hand."

He knelt down in front of Bruce and held out his left hand while he held the bouquet in his left. Heard his mother sob and his father sooth her with a hand on her back. But he was lost to the moment as Bruce slid the engagement ring on. It didn't fit past the first knuckle and they both smiled.

"Sorry, Clark, it'll need to be adjusted. I didn't know your size. This was my mothers and my grandmothers before her."

"Indeed, sir, a precious family heirloom."

Bruce stood up and helped Clark to his feet. 

Clark's Ma, Martha Kent, took the bouquet which allowed Clark to wrap his hands around Bruce's neck. 

One of Bruce's hands held him by the middle of his back and then the other hand held him by the chin.

His head tilted back, lips parted, he reached up as Bruce reached down just a couple inches between them.

For the first time, Bruce's lips touched his and he was held tight in the older man's embrace. HIs fiancée. Once betrothed, now official.

Dick was the first to clap his hands, "Congratulations!"

Alfred clap was more sedate.

"Oh, Jonathan!" Martha buried her face in the crook of her husbands neck. "Our baby's all grown up."

"That he is."

Clark broke the kiss and smiled into Bruce's dark gaze. "I love you, Bruce."

"And I, love you, Clark," he said loud enough for all to hear and then pressed a kiss near Clark's ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you thought and what your favorite parts of the fic were overall.
> 
> This is the end of the fic, but not the end of this verse, although it can stand all on it's own of course. Although some things were obviously not addressed - such as Clark's powers.
> 
> While I do have plans for where the next part(s)/sequel(s) will go, feel free to let me know what you hope to see and if it fits with the narrative I'm aiming for, it just might pop up there.

**Author's Note:**

> Please join as at the [Batsupes Community Discord Server](https://discord.com/invite/3fBFAc8)


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